


To rise above betrayal

by Fnorpan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Elvhen Gods, Elvhen Pantheon, Evanuris, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Romance, Smut, Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 93,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5748007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fnorpan/pseuds/Fnorpan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witness Cullens betrayal, Anuiras Lavellans rebirth, the finding of love anew in midst of war. </p><p>"Time suddenly sped up again and Anuira had to scramble to dodge a wicked long-blade swung at her midsection. It connected despite her efforts, cutting slightly through her leather armor, grazing her skin just enough to draw blood. She hissed in pain as she summoned the powers of Elgar'nan in her fury. Smirking in half-mad satisfaction she watched the enemy soldier's horrified expression as he turned to flee, right before he was engulfed - screaming and writhing – in a massive amount of flames."</p><p>(Rated M for smut and language)</p><p>Follow my rogue Inquisitor turned mage, QUICKLY through the DAI DLC's (which also contains spoilers!) before my story takes off (chap 9-11-ish). Story-telling gets a little more descriptive when DLC's are done.</p><p>Also note that I will be adding a Dorian/OC pairing. No smut with them, decided yesterday. If anyone want the sex-scenes with these two lover-boy's typed up. Let me know and I'll see what I can do.</p><p> </p><p>Cheers!</p><p> </p><p>(Picture? Here: http://fnorpan.deviantart.com/art/Anuira-Lavellan-staring-To-rise-above-betrayal-572916407)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this story had been jumbling around in my mind for quite some time before I actually got a mind to write it down. Granted the first chapters are not my best work, but bare with me since re-writing those will take a hell of a lot of time. Time I now spend getting forward in the story.  
> Mind you, these chapters will most likely be updated once the story is fully complete. Until then, PLEASE be patient with me, this is my first real story, my very first try and I have evolved my writing alot since it began.
> 
> Drop a comment if you like what you read, or Kudos at least. Keeps me on my toes and let's me know if I'm heading in the right direction.
> 
> OH, and btw. Idiot comments where you ONLY play grammar or spellingpolice will be deleted... Thanks for the help BUT seriously, if you can't be constructive about it, SHUT IT! 
> 
> NOTE: 
> 
> Credits for any tevene goes to katiebour at DeviantArt and the dragonage wikia.
> 
> Credits for any elvish goes to FenXshiral (tumbler and Ao3) and whom ever is responsible for the LingoJam elven DAI translator. I'm sorry if I abuse the language. Bare with me, I'm trying

~.o.O.o.~

Anuira Lavellan, elf hunter, rogue and assassin, was getting deadly tired of all the commotion. Of course she was happy that they'd defeated Corypheus and now had the time to celebrate and breathe again.  
The last year had only revolved around scrambling to catch up, get ready, kick ass and get stronger. She'd never had time to really think and mull over decisions, constantly on the move as they'd been. She could probably count on one hand how many nights she'd actually slept in her quarters which was saying a lot.

So here she was, the famous Inquisitor, Herald of a shem-god against her wishes and sole survivor of clan Lavellan. Creators, she hadn't even had time to mourn her family's brutal slaughter before running off to chase Venatori, dragons or red Templars.  
She smiled sadly at the thought as she made her way up the stairs by the throne towards the door to her quarters. She felt utterly spent.

As the door slowly gave way to her push, she felt his warmth radiating behind her before he snaked his arms around her waist.

"I thought I might claim more of your attention after all." he said playfully as Anuira turned in his arms.

"Oh, is there something on your mind?" she snickered playfully, backing her way inside her room, pulling him gently by one hand.

"Everything." he shot back while undressing her with his eyes.

Cullen followed her up to her quarters fully intending to undress her with more than just his eyes. But the sight of the morning sun rising over a clear sky tinted purple and reddish-orange, gave them both pause. They were both tired to the bone after all the battles and stress and the view was like a soothing balm on their adrenaline burned souls. The ended up in a sweet, tangled embrace on the balcony, watching the sun raise itself on a new day.

~.o.O.o.~

 

"Inquisitor?"

A noise was very rudely breaking through her sleep deprived brain. In protest she threw her arms over her head and rolled over on her side, refusing to acknowledge its existence.

"Inquisitor!"

The noise was closer this time, an unrelenting voice, annoyingly female, with Antivan accent. Of course it was… Anuira sat up, pulling one knee up under her chin yawning and trying to blink and rub the sleep from her eyes.

"Inquisitor!"

"WHAT!" she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air, frustrated for not being allowed to fully wake up. "Creators! Where's the damned fire!"

"I'm sorry to disturb you mistress Lavellan, Cullen. But we've got an urgent message saying there is something odd happening in Frostback Basin." Josephine said as perky and annoyingly perfect as usual.

At the word 'urgent' Anuira let her head drop into her hands and let out a loud 'Urgh' rivaling those guttural noises off Cassandra.  
Cullen listened halfheartedly, propped on one elbow chuckling slightly at his love's exasperation.

"Josie…" Anuira didn't even raise her head from her hands as she spoke, her voice ragged. "Do you ever sleep? If not, would you mind terribly if I told you to at least let others do so? Especially people who just a couple of days ago kicked a Gods **and** an Archdemons ass, very plausibly saving the world in the process!"

She sighed, tilting her head ever so slightly to glare from under her bangs at Josie with one tired, red brimmed turquoise eye.

"Yes, uhm… Very well Inquisitor. We'll revisit this after lunch?" Josie said curtly, clearly not happy with the delay.

"Of course Josie." Anuira yawned and flopped back onto her pillow, pulling her cower up to her ear. "I trust you can see yourself out?" she murmured already half asleep.

Cullen looked from his lover over to the indignant ambassador shrugging his shoulders as he swung his legs over the bedside.

"I'll be right out." he smiled at Josie and they shared a nod before she spun on her heel, quickly making her way down towards the main hall again.

~.o.O.o.~

 

The Frostback Basin was cold, harsh and wonderful, unless your name was Dorian Pavus, then it was miserable. Varric didn't seem to mind unless they were trekking cross-country in a thick layer of snow. Then his wining was as loud and crude as Dorians. Blackwall did what he did best, trudge on in brooding silence.

Anuira and the Avvarian people got along really well, to everyone's surprise. Blackwall had some trouble accepting the Avvarian culture, like they exiling a young man for not providing his dead father with proper burial gifts due to injuring himself in the hunt. Or their practice of letting their mages be possessed by spirits until the mages learned to control their gift.  
For Anuira however, it wasn't something to fuss about. Ok letting people be possessed, even though by spirits instead of demons, was not exactly a common practice in her clan but when she thought about it, it really made sense.

The Avvar worshiped their "nature-gods", their spirits. If pleasing the spirits made them inclined to protect the Avvarians mages from demons and help them better understand their capacity, then why not? And the Avvarians habit of invoking and consulting spirits on a daily basis wasn't all bad. Cole was a spirit. The spirit of Compassion and he'd been allowed to both stay with the Inquisition and was consulted regularly without the world ending. As long as the spirits purpose did not become tainted they would not be a liability, simple as that.

As for the exile of the young boy. Well every clan, tribe and people had practices others would disregarded as strange, or even cruel. Her place was not to judge and dishonor their culture. Anuira was nothing if not open minded. The Avvarian was not invading or threatening anyone with their practices, thus Anuira could not care less if they had danced naked in under a full moon in favor for rain. She came there to help. And help she did.

Anuira hacked, slashed and sparkled her way through beast, rifts, Hakkonites, demons and other ilk to save and help the Avvarians as her party of four followed the last Inquisitors tracks through the wilderness.  
She was also trying very hard not to hurt professor, Bram Kenric in his lack of prudence addressing elven artifacts they found on their journey. The idiot Shem _(short for quickling/ quick children, often used to express ill feelings towards humans),_ didn't even know Fen'Harel from Ghilan'nain!

Anuira was open minded, for the most part. She recognized the fact that the Dalish new very little of their ancestry and probably got much wrong, if not for lack of trying. Her opinion of humans, however, was tainted with incident after incident of brutality, ignorance and prejudice for no reason other than a difference in appearance and beliefs.

The professors absurd self-importance and pride about his so called 'knowledge' of elven history, when he didn't even remember Fen'Harel, much less pronounced the names correct, made her want to stick her dragonbone-blades down his pompous throat to shut him up.

Of course when they found Inquisitor Ameridan, he was an elf, with a strikingly beautiful green vallaslin of Dirthamen across his face, and a mage… Shocker…  
The first inquisitor was not human warrior as the chantry would have everyone believe. No he was a heathen elf, and a mage at that, saving the idiot shemlen _(quickling/ quick children, often used to express ill feelings towards humans)_ and their precious chantry from themselves, as per usual…

"If Andraste, the Maker or what-not needed Heralds why couldn't they just pick from the people who actually believed in them? Are humans really so untrustworthy? Wait, don't answer that…" Anuira exclaimed angrily as they proceeded with running straight into mortal danger after yet another crazed, would-be God.

Dorian laughed heartily at Anuiras snide remarks even though he was miserable in the cold and Varric chuckled pretty much like he always did, taking notes, spouting snark and fondling his crossbow. Blackwall thankfully didn't comment, as was his usual custom since Anuira had proclaimed that she owned his ass after the cockup regarding Blackwall in reality being Rainier, a criminal wanted for betraying his country.

"Fenedhis lasa, dinathe'dirthelan! Ma tas durgen'lin!" _(Go suck wolfs-dick, necromancer! You to dwarf /child of the stone!)_ she growled.

"I must say my dear, you're elven has improved significally since I met you. Mind you, most of it is snark and curses but still, quite a feat!" Dorian snickered earning him a scowl until she couldn't contain her chuckled, swatting him playfully on the shoulder.

After battling the huge ice-dragon-would-be-God known as Hakkon Wintersbreath to the local Avvarians. Dorian, Anuira, Varric and Blackwall dragged themselves back to Stone-Bear hold to get some well-earned rest before heading back to Skyhold.

Once they left they did not leave empty handed. They'd gained a huge bear, the hold-beast of the Stone-Bear tribe, a lot of furs, leathers, metals and cloths. There was also a promise to uphold trade and communications.

Anuira didn't want to leave the Avvarians with nothing after their hospitality and generosity. She invited them to partake in all that the inquisition knew about Tyrdda Bright-Axe, famed Avvar mother, as well as promised the return of Tyrdda's staff who lay resting in the vaults of Skyhold. This earned Anuira a deep respect among the Avvarians who swore that she was always to be seen as a part of the tribe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interupted dreams and wartable-dabble. A tiny inkling of smut in the beginning of the chapter.

She stepped out of her leather leggings never looking away from his reverent gaze, one hand still knotted in his blond curls. His hands slowly slid up her stomach, caressing her cream silken skin over her taut muscles, kissing and nipping his way up from her hipbones to her very sensitive ear. Cullen enjoyed every gasp and moan that escaped her lovely lips immensely.

He let his tongue trail the lobe of her ear up to the tip rewarding him with a soft cry as her eyes closed and her head fell back slightly. His lips stole her breath in a passionate kiss, one hand tangled in her hair pulling her deeper into the kiss, the other hand around her waist supporting her as she stood on her tippy-toes.

"Inquisitor." she heard him say.

Wait what? Her eyes snapped open, looking at him, questioning his sanity. He just smiled and kissed a trail down to her collarbone. She closed her eyes again, mentally shrugging and decided to enjoy her lover's treatment.

"Inquisitor!"

What the… Creators! Not this again! Damned Josie… what could that incessant woman possibly need now?! Anuira hadn't been back for more than a few days and she was already yelling her way into the elf's dreams…

"There you are my dear!" a male voice called out as she sat up, rapidly blinking sleep from her eyes. She glared at the man peeking his head over the ridge of the taverns roof. She could still hear Josie call for her from below so she figured they were having a manhunt to find her.

"How do you always know where I am?" Anuira whined, stretching her arms over her head until there was a slight popping sound. "Is it some blood magic, tracking spell I'm not aware of?"

"You wound me!" Dorian said feigning shock "No you're just predictable, albeit crazy, but predictable nonetheless."

"You and Sera must be the only ones ever to think of looking for me on a rooftop."

"Yes, well, it will be our little secret then." he chuckled as they made their way down the roof and into the tavern.

"Thank you Dorian." she hugged him quickly before starting her way down the stairs. "Now, what is it our esteemed ambassador wants with me this time?"

"Oh you know, some dreadfully important letter has arrived that has your name on it."

Anuira stopped with slumped shoulders and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Will I ever be able to just relax? No emergences or catastrophes, just endless days of boring peace… " her tone was wistful and tired.

"Of course you will, da' ean." _(Of course you will, little bird.")_ Dorian said meeting her eyes with his for a second before he passed her and disappeared out of the tavern.

~.o.O.o.~

 

"What do we know about these earthquakes and attacks on the lyrium-mines?" Anuira inquired looking from advisor to advisor, waiting for answers.

"Not more than the dwarfs are willing to share I'm afraid." Josie answered matter-of-factly. "We don't, however, have much choice in the matter. After all, Lyrium is a necessity for all Thedas, us included."

"Our Templars would go mad without it, not that the mages would mind, but it could spark another conflict." Cullen added.

"We could send agents to appraise the situation, but that would take time." Leliana offered, putting weight on the word 'time'.

"And time is a luxury we don't have… I get it" Anuira continued with a sigh, bracing both hands on the war table while hanging her head for a moment.

"Ok here's what we'll do. Cullen you ready a small company of skilled men to take up post outside the area of entrance, in case we need to hold it." she looked over to see him nod in acknowledgement.

"Leliana you send a couple of agents with Cullen for support and send scouts to take up positions around the crack every other mile to keep an eye out for darkspawn assaults."

"Of course Inquisitor." came Lelianas reply

"Josie will contact our allies about this potential threat. Tell them we're handling it but should the worst come to pass they need to be ready."

"Anything else, Inquisitor?" Josie asked in her usual curt voice.

"No, thank you Josie."

"So who'll be going with you to the deep roads?" Leliana inquired very obviously asking what Cullen refused to.

"Hmm… Well, we'll need a walking wall and with Cassandra indisposed due to her new position as Divine, Blackwall's all we've got. Dorians fire is invaluable against darkspawn so he's a given." Anuira muses aloud more for her own sake than to answer the actual question. "As for the last member I'm not sure, Sera maybe?"

"Sera? Honestly I can't fathom why you allow her to stay." Josie said with clear exasperation and distaste.

"Why ambassador, is that distain I hear in your voice?" Leliana snickers at Josephine heaving a sigh.

"To Josephine's defense the girl is rather obnoxious." Cullen says with a smile towards Leliana.

"And the pranks!" Josie exclaims.

"I'll be taking her of your hands for a while then." Anuira chuckles at her advisors. "We'll leave in a days time. Send word to our contacts and make the necessary preparations by then."

With that she leaves the war room to go find her friends for a missionbriefing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DLC - The Descent.

Dorian complained about the excruciatingly slow elevator taking them deep into the earth to meet their dwarf associate and Sera gleefully busted his chops about that. Blackwall sighed and muttered that they were acting like kids.  
Anuira enjoyed the happy back-and-forth jabs of snide remarks and snark between Sera and Dorian for a while. Snickering discreetly at a remark of Sera being an illiterate 'pointy-ear' with no sense of fashion, the 'pointy-ear' thing made Sera step into Dorians face spouting a string of profanities that made even Blackwall slightly blush.

"You guys are so cute, now make up and kiss already!" Anuira smirked as two heads snapped to glare at her, fire in their eyes. Their playful quarreling dissipated in the blink of an eye as the elevator bumped into the ground with a soft 'thunk' and they were greeted by their dwarf associate, Shaper Valta of Orzammar.

Anuira and her team, led by Valta, didn't even make it to the first camp before the fighting started. First they ran into a huge roaring Ogre who every few seconds, almost knocked someone off the side of the cliff as they fought to wane it down. Then they found the campsite overrun with Hurlocks.

Great… It was going to be that kind of mission.

The Legion (Legion of the dead) placed charges on either side of the tunnel opening spitting enemies at them, but of course they were swooped aside as a new wave of Hurlocks came barging trough, flanked by Genlocks and led by two giant Hurlock Alphas.

They banded together and fought through the onslaught. Anuira managed to arm the charges between waves of foes and bolted to cover. Sliding behind big slab of rock just in time as the entrance to the tunnel crumbled in a loud 'boom' and huge cloud of dust and flying debris.

Well at least the company was bearable.

~.o.O.o.~

 

Valta and Renn, Renn being the Legions Commander, was like a shorter version of Dorian and Sera, plus a little romance. Always getting on each other's case, bickering like and old married couple.

Getting to know the two dwarves and the situation more thoroughly was interrupted by a rumbling quake. Everyone scrambled for cover as the quake shook loose a lot of debris that kept falling every-which-way.

Valta was edgy when the tremors stopped.

"You heard that yes?" she said nervously to Renn. "The rhythm in the tremors? It's clearer, stronger. More insistent."

"I hear it. Doesn't prove a thing." Renn shot back in a calm voice slightly tinted by irritation.

Valta proceeded to tell the group her suspicions about the cause of the tremors, a creature, called Titan. Massive in size, living deep in the stone with the power to shape it.

They also briefly touched the subject of dwarven stone-sense and beliefs before returning to the more pressing issue of their mission.

They turned over everything they knew, from the ancient texts predating the first blight to what was recorded in the Shaperade of Orzammar, to legends and hearsay. Neither cause nor possible outcome they could come up with was satisfactory so they decided to stock up, prep their armor and weapons and set out to secure the area as soon as possible.

~.o.O.o.~

 

As Anuira waited for everyone to get ready for departure, she found a shielded corner to meditate in and seated herself comfortably. Reaching inwards she consulted the voices from the vir'abelasan _(well of sorrows)_ about the prospect of this Titan-creature. She heard them warn of forbidden knowledge as she saw flashes of indescribably gigantic creatures riddled with blue veins shaping the landscape with every move of a limb.

She emerged from her meditation with a gasp, clutching one hand tightly against her chest while bracing herself on the floor with the other. This was the clearest she'd ever heard the voices and definitely the first time she'd heard them agitated and with hints of fear tinging the conversation. If it could be called such. Anuira knew what Valta suspected was true, but with the warning of forbidden knowledge still ringing in her ears, she decided not to confirm it.

"Hey Inky?" Sera came into view from Anuiras right side. "You look like someone ate Tadwinks." she smiled gleefully. Tadwinks being the greater frostback elk Anuira had received as a token of appreciation for returning Tyrdda's staff to the Avvarians.

"I'm ok." she said taking Sera's outstretched hand to help her up. "Just tired."

"Uhu… and I'm a prissy noble of sum shite-country." Sera pouted with furrowed brows. "Fine! Keep yur secrets, see if I care!"

Anuira couldn't help but chuckle. Sera might be quirky, selfish and weird. But at least she was honest about it.

~.o.O.o.~

 

The tunnels was built like layers upon layers and was riddled with every darkspawn-kind ever known to man, elf or dwarf and as they cleared out the last of the darkspawn from the third level they sent word to the surface that some builders and archeologists was required to explore the Thaig of Heidrun they'd come across.

Valta wanted to hurry down the massive elevator in the ruined Thaig but Anuira and Renn slammed the breaks.

"First we need to make sure that these areas are secure." Renn said soberly in his deep voice.

"But…" Valta started but snapped her jaws shut with an audible 'snap' at his glaring gaze.

"Renn's right Valta, we need to make sure we're not stabbed in the back or cut off from retreat. We make camp and dig in our heels here before venturing further." Anuira spoke up as she peered down the gaping chasm the elevator descended into.

After a couple of days of rest, exploring and making sure they were secure, well as secure as one could be in the deep roads anyway. They said good bye to the camp and took the elevator down into the deep.

"Renn!" Valta cried out as he slumped to the ground on his knees. It was a miracle the dwarf was able stay upright after his injury even more so for him to help fight their attackers. But the miracle was short-lived and once the foes lay dead and the adrenalin wore off, Renn fell.

"Atrast tunsha, salroka." _(Farewell, friend)_ Valta said with a voice barely holding as she closed Renn's eyes for his last slumber.

Valta turned her attention towards their attacker's corpses as soon as Renn's body was returned to the stone. Examining their armor and weapons it became clear that they were dwarves. Their armor fused to their bodies and riddled with lyrium. Even their weapons was infused with it.

As they progressed into the old lyrium-mine they found legions of enemies and a few ancient texts telling the story about the Sha-Brytol _(Revered Defender)_ supposed protectors of the Titan.

Everything Valta read out loud made the hair on Anuiras neck stand on edge. This was something that the world should never know about. If people knew, there would inevitably be those seeking to control the Titans power to rule all of Thedas. Tevinter came to mind.

The voices of vir'abelasan was stirring and ever present, watching, whispering and made Anuiras head ace.

It was a nightmare… and the attacks where getting worse as they advanced deeper into the mine.

After hours of battles Anuira and her friends were spent. They scouted out a sheltered spot, took turns guarding the camp and tried to get ready for what they believed would be the final push. Valta said she felt it to be so.

~.o.O.o.~

 

They were in awe as they stepped into a huge city in the middle of the mountain. Valta declared they'd found the source of the rhythm causing the tremors and that they are in actuality standing inside the Titan. They had been since they stepped out of the elevator.

Not much time was left to muse about the subject before the Sha-Brytol graciously came up to greet them. With the pointy end of a sword of course. And there were wave upon wave of Sha-Brytol crashing upon them as they made their way towards the heart of the city.

A final inscription found on a pillar opposite a huge blob of lyrium in the center of the city stated that the Sha-Brytol walks the path of purity and comes there to drink the Titans blood.

Tremors shake the entire world around them shaking them out of their pondering and as they advance towards the lyrium-heart something shoots out, a projectile of some sort, of pure lyrium.  
It strikes Valta in the chest leaving her slumped in a pile on the bridge before anyone can react and lyrium-infused walls shoot up from the ground to cut off their escape route.

There was no choice but to battle the Titan, pulling itself together by piecing together rock slabs with its lyrium-strings.

~.o.O.o.~

 

Sera was black and blue and sported a lot of scratches after being thrown across the platform a couple of times. Dorian had been knocked unconscious by a projectile to the head in the late stages of the battle and was bleeding profusely from the gash in his left temple. Blackwall seemed fine if one didn't count a broken shield and being tired to the brink of collapse.

Anuira had a large slash on her back and another across her face, from right temple to left cheek. She ignored them, still high on adrenaline and ran across the platform towards Valta.

"Valta. Are you hurt?" she called out as Valta stirred. Seconds later she had to dodge some kind of magic blast coming from Valta who screamed that the song was too loud.

When the dust settled they tried to decrypt what had happened but Valta was being annoyingly cryptic. Though she did share that the Titans was something equal to parents to the dwarves. And the dwarves stone sense would most certainly support that theory, as would their ability to hear lyrium and their resilience to it.

When it was clear Valta was neither coming back with them or sharing more information they came to the understanding that the only thing leaving the expeditions, information wise, was that no one knew what happened to Valta.

And the Titan, albeit only a fragment of it, had been destroyed. To Anuiras surprise the voices of the well seemed quite pleased with the turn of events and happily went back to being quiet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little "in-between-snippet" before Trespasser DLC.

The mission down the deep roads had been depressing to say the least. Sure they'd made valuable allies in Orzammar but the entire ordeal had left Anuira with more questions than answers. A situation she did not in the least appreciate. She had vague hopes of Valta keeping her in the loop but with the last message from Orzammar on the subject, she had to assume the worst.

The archeologists still working in the ruined Thaig of Heidrun and the Legion protecting them, had reported an earsplitting cry followed by a deep rumble as the earth shook one last time. When they had ventured down the elevator, toward the origin of the bloodcurdling cry, they'd found the tunnel leading forward heavily collapsed and the grave of Renn empty.

Just in case Anuira always held an ear to the ground around the entrance to Heidruns Thaig. She'd left a message in a place only Valta would find it. A rune, attuned to recognize only Valta and to tell her how to reach Anuira, should the need or want arise. It was all she could do, that and pray.

~.o.O.o.~

 

Just weeks after the mission in the deep roads, her friends were going off one by one, to start their lives again.

Varric went back to Kirkwall to help with the continuation of rebuilding and Sera was more often than not, away on Red Jenny-business. She stopped by to have cookies on the roof or play pranks on the poor advisors every now and then though.

Blackwall had gone to rejoin, or more like actually join the wardens as was the arrangement after saving his ass from the gallows.

The Iron Bull and his chargers were taking on odd jobs here and there but mostly stayed close to home, Skyhold that is, while Dorian and Cole had stayed and were steady companions on missions.

Solas was still gone from the face of the Thedas.

~.o.O.o.~

 

Anuira was hiding again. She was sunbathing on the roof of the tallest tower of the keep, except her own, mulling over what Josephine had said about the exalted council which was rapidly approaching.

Orlais would see the Inquisition beaten into submission like a pet to the Orlesian's whims. While Ferelden would see the Inquisition crushed and forgotten. Anuira couldn't decide which option was worse.

She would rather die than be a pawn, but to disband? That felt like losing her family all over again.

She sighed and sat up, moving to rest her back against one stonewall of the tower. From far down on the ground she could hear people yelling for her.

As usual…

Well that was something she wouldn't miss if the Inquisition was disbanded. The incessant yelling and hunting her down or waking her up, when all she wanted was a few moments of peace.

The nights she spent with Cullen, who had all but moved into her quarters. It was no secret they were involved and Varric had a betting-ring going, on when they lovers would tie the knot. During the days he was busy training the recruits and keeping the army in shape as the Inquisition was still righting wrongs in Thedas. Mediating and keeping the hard earned peace going.

It had been almost two years since Corypheus was defeated and the squabbling nobles were hard at each other's throats already. Always leaving the common man in the middle to get hurt. Red Jenny held herself busy to say the least and with "her" so did the Inquisition.

Leliana had her hands full trying to outmaneuver everyone and everything in favor for the Inquisition and the divine Victoria, namely Cassandra. Josephine was still running diplomacy all over Thedas to settle disputes and keep peace and favor for the Inquisition as well as running her family with an iron hand on the side.

Everyone was working as hard as the day the Inquisition was born, their burden seemed never ending. Would it ever stop?

Shemlen and their petty greed…

"Hello Dorian." Anuira called out as she heard someone coming up the ladder. The steps was too heavy for Sera so that only left Dorian to know where to find her.

"Ah, and here you are. How utterly predictable. Honestly it's truly a mystery that no one has figured you out by now!" Dorian exclaimed as he peeked his head above the floor of the tower. "Find the highest, most secluded and inaccessible place in the entire keep, and there you are."

"Ma eolasa em son fenor isa'ma'lin." (You know me well dear brother.)

"I have no idea what you just said but I'm hoping it had something to do with my stunning good looks and great personality!" Dorian shot back with a confident grin as Anuira got up to follow him down to ground level again.

"Maybe I'll tell you someday, isa'ma'lin." she teased as she slid down the first ladder towards the annoying musts and have to's of the everyday life being the Inquisitor.

As they hit the ground level Dorian reached out to grab her arm before she could open the door to Skyholds herb-garden. She turned, surprised, to look at him. He looked apprehensive, like a child caught with its hand in the cookie-jar.

"What is it Dorian, did you finally find a love worth keeping and need a honeymoon?" Anuira snickered lightly at his squirming and fiddling. It was very rare to see Dorian flustered and nervous. It was even rarer for him not to snark back in a seconds notice when she teased him.

Her smile disappeared, replaced by a look of concern as she rushed to put his hands in hers, squeezing gently and trying to catch his gaze. He resolutely looked away but let her keep his hands in hers.

"Dorian?" she coaxed.

"I'm going away for a while. Back home." he said pouting and studiously looking away from her. "Maker knows I don't want to, but someone has to try and fix the blighted mess the Venatori left us."

Anuira smiled at him and drew him into a hug. He usually protested at such mushy display of affection but once alone and concealed from prying eyes she'd found he would readily oblige, even as he chided her. Today he did nothing of the sort, but instead hugged her back in force.

"I will miss you, asa'ma'lin." (I will miss you, sister.) he mumbled barely audible.

"Melana ju'ea shem sule ea'ir saron sal, isa'ma'lin." (Time will be quick until we are together again, brother.) She said as she broke from the hug to look at him with a warm smile.

"Did you just call me shem!?" Dorian said sternly and cocked an eyebrow at her. And just like that all the uneasiness as well as sadness seemed completely blown away from his features, he was back to his normal pompous self.

"No you ass. I said that our time apart will be swift, isa'ma'lin. Shem is the word for quick, not only short for quick children." she giggled, smile still in place, making her eyes sparkle like the turquoise waters of Rialto Bay.

Of course she would miss Dorian, more than she would care to admit. But she wasn't about to tell him that. The mage had an ego big enough to sustain all of Tevinter already, without her adding to it.

~.o.O.o.~

 

As Anuira and Dorian made themselves known to the world of Skyhold again, Josephine was in an uproar. There was yet another mind-numbing Orlesian party to attend and Josie had so much the Inquisitor had to do and learn as to not make an ass of herself.

Dorian patted Anuiras shoulder and gave her a look as if to say 'good luck!'. She sighed glumly earning a scowl from Josie who stressed how important it was to uphold diplomacy this close to the exalted council. Every support they could muster was a step closer to remaining free from influence.

And as Dorian went his marry way to pack his belongings she followed after Josie like a good student, to be educated on the noble houses, etiquette and the dos and don'ts of the game.

After a hard day getting drilled by the relentless ambassador Montilyet she went to meet up with Dorian at the stables to see him of.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An average night in the Inquisitor's chambers. Cullavellan smut starting around halfway through the chapter. Before Trespasser DLC

"No… stop… no…NO!" he whimpered, thrashing beside her. Anuria started awake and reached out to block his flailing arms before they hit her. She knew this by heart at this point and she didn't hesitate. Every move well-rehearsed and determined.

The one good thing the blasted elf mage, otherwise known as Solas, taught her before he decided to fall of the face of Thedas, was how to control her dreaming. No one but Solas, Dorian and herself had thought about the effects the anchor would have on Anuiras life, besides the obvious.

The anchor was magic and thus she was something of a mage now, whether she liked it or not. Demons would be drawn to her, to the magic being the anchor and she needed to be ready. Thus Solas had in secret taught her how to protect herself. He also taught her about the skills of dreaming and the fade. Together with Dorian she had experimented and discovered other uses of the anchor.

Anuira quickly straddled her panicking lover and pinned his arms with the force of her thighs. She had to act quickly as Cullen was by far stronger, in every way. But for a moment she could hold him, and moment was all she needed.

Her left hand went instinctively to his forehead. Closing her eyes she sparked the anchor ever so lightly and concentrated on Cullen. Letting his emotions pull her in, she felt her body slump against his clammy one and in mere moments she stood before the ugly abomination from her lovers dreadful past. Neither of them acknowledging her presence.

The abomination was torturing one of the Templars right in front of Cullen in this dream, spouting hateful, cruel demands while telling him he would be next. The pain would be endless until he relented himself to their mercy, accepted fate it called it.

Anuira turned her back towards the dream-conjured abomination to face Cullen. His eyes opened wide, locked on the horrors unfolding in front of him, powerless to help or stop it. He banged at the barrier-wall of his prison with blooded fists and screamed at the top of his lungs. His voice hoarse with strain, tears of panic, grief and agony streaming freely over his ashen cheeks.

The sight was always heartbreaking to watch and she hurried towards Cullen, slipping effortlessly through the barrier to take his panic-stricken face between her hands. Forcing him to look at her, determined turquoise eyes finding and holding his darting, fearful lightbrown ones.

"Remember who you are." she said lovingly and smiled softly at him, not letting him look away from her. Forcing the memory of her into his head.

"Ma' lath, remember me." _(My love, remember me.)_ Cullens eyes stopped darting around and calmed somewhat as the illusion of his nightmare started falling away. Anuira concentrated on their night in Honnleath. The bridge over the lovely little lake in his hometown came into being under their feet and she leaned her forehead to his, not breaking eyecontact.

"Anuira…" he sighed as his spirit-self stopped its shivering, his breathing returned to normal and he closed his eyes. He let his arms snake around her waist, burrowing his face in the crook of her neck in a tight, desperate embrace. The last of his nightmare crumbled into nothingness, replaced by the calm memory of their evening by the lake in Honnleath.

"Yes ma' soun vheraan." _(Yes my strong lion.)_ Anuira said with a sparkling smile before feathering her lips to his.

"Time to wake up." She whispered her parting words to his ear and in seconds she could feel herself, or rather her consciousness being rushed back towards her own body. Soon she once again started awake. She sat up by reflex, still straddling Cullen, rapidly blinking as she tried to get the world back into focus and in the process getting it to stop spinning.

Anuira groaned as she put her head in her hands, pinching her eyes shut tight and breathing in short rapid breaths. The worst part of this practice, invading someone's dreams was the returning to her own body. It almost always ended with her feeling like she had the worst hangover possible at the same time as being dead drunk.  
Thankfully the feeling was mostly gone in a few minutes, leaving only a slight headache for a couple of hours.

As she proceeded to breathe through her nausea she felt Cullen softly stroking the length of her arms up and down in a soothing motion. He always hated having her put herself through this for him. But he accepted it and was even thankful for it. She was allowed to help him or she would never accept his help in return. This was their understanding.

When the world went back to obedient stillness around her and the nausea didn't threaten to make her heave, she opened her eyes to look at her lover. He had not tried to move or speak, only caressing her arms in silent understanding as she collected herself.

"Feeling better?" he said in a low voice, a bit tainted in the edges by concern.

"Much." she smiled softly at him. "And you?"

Cullen just smiled back at her as he shifted to sit up to put his arms around her while she straddled his lap. His face automatically went to nestle itself in the crook of her neck.

"There, now I'm good." he sighed planting a chaste kiss on her collarbone enjoying her silken skin against his own. "I love you."

Anuira let out a warm giggle at Cullens display of affection, letting her cheek rest in his blond curls as her arms wrapped themselves around his back and proceeded to trail unconscious patterns there.

"And I you."

They spent a long moment in each other's arms, in silence, just enjoying the comforting warmth. Anuira broke the silence first.

"It's not yet morning, ma' lath."

"I noticed, love, sleeping is not really an entertaining idea right now though." he sighed. Once he had a nightmare, no matter what they did or tried, it would always come back if he tried to sleep again.

"Well then we just have to entertain ourselves with something else until breakfast is served." Anuira smiled cheerfully, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she dropped her head to nibble playfully at his ear. That earned her a chuckle ending in a groan as he trailed his hands over her petite curves from her waist to her breasts.

Cullen broke their embrace to meet the beautiful elf straddling him in a loving kiss which soon burned hot with passion. One hand along her back, fingers touching and pressing her neck towards him. The other nimbly playing with her nipple, making her squirm as heat pooled in her lower stomach.

Soon they had to break apart, gasping for air. Cullen continued his onslaught down her neck instead. Her head fell back slightly in a breathy moan when he graced her skin at the base of her throat with his teeth. He moved his hands to support her back as she leaned backwards to give him room to continue his kissing-trail further down her front. Her smooth cream skin forming goosebumps in the wake of every kiss and touch.

As he took one of her rigid nipples in his mouth, a gasp escaped her lips and her hands dug in ever so slightly into the flesh of his well sculpted shoulders. He continued trailing his tongue in circles around her nipples, causing Anuira to grind against him in his lap. Occasionally he sucked or flicked his tongue hard across the stiff center earning him gasps and loud moans as well as a few red lines from her nails on whatever bodypart held her hands attention at the moment.

She felt like exploding when he trailed one hand down to her heated core, slipping a finger deep inside her, then another. His pace was slow but firm and he used her own wetness to ease the friction when rubbing her pleasure-nub. Her back arching in an impossible angle at the treatment. Without conscious choice she started calling his name, breathlessly begging him to enter her and give her that fade-splitting release she only ever experienced with him.

Cullen was lost in her, her frantic touch, her lovely moans and the way she bucked and grinded her hips against his length, begging him to take her. His head was spinning with lust and the nightmare all but forgotten. His member acted and strained to find her hotness, knowing full well of the pleasures to come.  
He slipped his fingers out of her searing hot and convulsing core as he kissed her deeply and repositioned his arms around her waist ready to let her hotness engulf him.

She whimpered at the loss of his fingers, she was so close it was almost painful. The kiss they shared was rough with passion and unfulfilled need and with that Anuira could no longer bear the waiting. She moved her hips to position herself, allowing his member to graze her core. They both shuddered and Cullen let slip a groan as she slid down his length in one swift snap of her hips. Their arms tightened around one another, savoring the intimacy.

With a heated kiss they started moving in an age old rhythm together. Anuira set a slow but deep pace, allowing every inch of his member to sheath itself in her pulsing core with every meeting of hips. She could feel the heat in her stomach reaching outwards, building pressure and threatening to throw her over the edge.

Cullen felt her slick walls massaging his length with every flick of her hips, driving him pleasantly mad. She was impossibly hot and tight making him sometimes wondered how in the name of Andraste she could accommodate him. His breathing was labored with strain of holding back the tidalwave being his release, every part of his body tense and focused on her.

Every movement brought them closer to the abyss of euphoria and as Anuiras movements became erratic in her passion, Cullen flipped them. With the delicate elf beneath him nearly undone he began chasing his own high, driving into her in a relentless pace. Each thrust sending blinding lightning of pleasure through him as well as his lover. Her cries of passion echoed in their chambers spurring him on.

She could feel her entire body tense as a bowstring, back arching and head thrown back. Her lovers name slipped in a gasping moan as she tumbled over the edge, her body writhing in pleasure.

Cullen saw stars as he felt her tense and soon her core was convulsing hard around him, milking his length with impossible strength. Her name leaving his lips in a strangled whisper as he felt himself follow her over the edge, spilling into her with a few last erratic thrusts before easing himself down on to his welcoming lover.

They stayed tangled in their embrace until they felt the world coming back into focus. Their heartbeats calmed with each slowing breath.  
When they finally moved it was only to reposition themselves to be more comfortable in the embrace. Entirely content with just reveling in silence at being close and for the moment, undisturbed by the world and the upcoming Exalted Council.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exalted council begins. I have not followed the game strictly in every aspect here. Mostly because my wanted options did not appear in the game. I've tried not to be to obvious about the changes and I hope I've been able to integrate them well in the story.

Arriving in Orlais for the Exalted Council brought everyone a headache. Orlais as expected wanted to make lapdogs out of the Inquisition and Ferelden was angry about the Inquisitions armies 'threating' their borders and thus pushed for disbanding. As if that was not enough to worry about, soon the qunari made their appearance and through the elven artifacts known as eluvians no less.

Anuira had to follow the leads through the eluvian in the Winter Palace. One eluvian leading to others, leading to different places and planes. All shattered and broken echoes of their former glory.

Hacking, slashing and casting their way through echoes of elvhen warrior-spirits and qunari warriors, uncovering remnants of Fen'harels history as well as ancient magic, they soon discovered the qunari was threatening the entire southern Thedas with flat out war and hostile take-overs and that there was a mystery agent, mage, determined to stop them just as much as the Inquisition.

Of course nothing was ever easy or simple and soon the qunari had made it look like it was all the Inquisitions fault by smuggling in explosive with the Inquisitions supplies through sleeper-agents. Qun-converted elf spies from Kirkwall was at the heart of the betrayal. As well as rumors and whispers of Solas being the agent of Fen'harel and the mage responsible for the hostile actions taken by the qunari. Thus earning the Inquisition even more of a bad reputation as they were painted as the bringers of this war by association.

To put the icing on the cake Anuiras mark of magic on her left hand suddenly decided to flare up uncontrollably, sending jolts of nerve-racking pain through her entire body, making her gasp and grunt with effort not to wail at the top of her lungs. It felt like her arm was dissolving in acid every time the anchor flared.

"Shit! Damn it!" she spat angrily clutching her left arm.

"We save Ferelden, and they're angry! We save Orlais, and they're angry! We close the breach **TWICE** , and my own hand wants to kill me!" her voice steadily gaining volume as the fury built in her chest until she was openly shouting.

"Could one thing in this fucking world just stay fixed?!"

Calming down a bit after seeing the advisors worried faces she informed them of her intentions of seeking out this invasion waiting to happen and put a stop to it. That meant going deeper into the world of the eluvians, a world they knew nothing about, but for the sake of southern Thedas there was little to no choice.

Saving the ungrateful, witless asses from certain doom once again...

Oh joy…

At least meeting her friends again made up for some of the shit-storm they'd once again landed themselves in.

Varric was now Viscount of Kirkwall, to his own dismay it seemed. But at least he found some joy in torturing the poor Seneschal by doing outrageous things like gifting Anuira with the key to the city.  
Sera was her usual quirky self quickly snatching Anuira up in pranks and fun while The Iron Bull staying true to himself offered up a cheery toast the moment she walked in the tavern.

Krem and the chargers talked her into making an ass of herself trying to distract Bull enough for them to sneak a dragonskull in behind him as a birthday-present and Blackwall was still a brooding boor, shining his sword instead of having fun in the tavern.  
Vivienne was doing what she did best, playing the game and being a royal bitch-diva.

Cassandra being the new divine was going stark crazy at the incessant revered mothers trying to get her to be more ladylike and stop her from sword practice.

When she approached Cullen in the palace gardens he had found a dog, a majestic, if rowdy, mabari with a dark silvery coat flecked with white spots and streaks. Its eyes were intelligent and proud as it raised its head to look at Anuira. She kneeled beside the huge creature as it eagerly rolled over on its back, nuzzling her legs for attention and giving of a growling whine for attention.

Being the hunter she was she was brought up to read, track and love animals, respecting them even as she took their life for food and supplies. She found herself chuckling and obliged the mabari with a good rubbing of its belly. As she stopped rubbing and turned to focus on Cullen, the mabari carefully tackled her to the ground with huff. Anuira picking up on the animal's intent sat cross-legged to allow its huge head to solemnly be placed in her lap, one huge front-leg sprawled over the side of her leg. She begun to stroke the silken fur along the mabaris head and neck absentmindedly while talking to her lover.

They spoke about the mabari at first. Toying with the idea of taking the mabari to Ferelden to visit Cullen's sister. Then his speech changed, became a bit muffled and distant as he started talking of the future. In the midst of his monolog he blurted out.

"Marry me."

"What?" Anuiras head snapped up to meet his gaze with her mildly chocked one.

"I mean, will you…?" he broke off with a sigh, eyes darting around anxiously, rubbing his neck in that nervous gesture of his.

"I had a plan and… and there wasn't a dog. But you were there…" he broke off again, looking down at his feet with an expression of utter defeat.

"It doesn't matter."

"Cullen, are you proposing?" she giggled warmly at her lover's obvious fluster and the endless fidgeting with the hem of that ridiculously pompous red, blue and gold uniform they all usually wore when dealing with the Orlesian's. Anuira had refused, opting instead to wear her formal armor made of dragonbone as well as the leather leggings and knee-high boots from dragonshide.

"I have thought of little else, and I don't need a plan… Only to know if you would." he said resolutely as he found his voice again, looking up at her warmly though still anxious and still blushing. "Marry me that is."

"Cullen I would." She breathed happily, pulling away from the mabari to embrace her lover. The happiness faltered ever so slightly for a moment as she tentatively looked into his golden brown eyes and added.

"But not in the middle of this shit-storm."

He looked at her with such pride and happiness and seemingly not bothered in the least that she didn't want to marry him right this instant on the very spot they stood upon. He kissed her with soft passion until they were both out of breath before telling her that he wanted nothing more than to give her everything she desired.

Still wrapped in their embrace, foreheads pressed together, they outlined their future wedding. Anuira wanted a combination of Dalish vows to honor her heritage and chantry vows to honor his. Cullen wished for the ceremony to be held in Honnleath, on the small bridge overlooking the lake. Together they mused about who to invite and laughed at the idea of what was undoubtedly going to happen during the festivities with their friends being the motley bunch they were.

When they finally broke apart they were both grinning like fools, giddy and flushed.

Anuira went to meet with the Tevinter ambassador and found none other than Dorian, spouting snark at unsuspecting nobles that dared enter in conversation with him. She observed him for a moment at a distance. Reveling in the familiarity of the scene unraveling in front of her until he locked his gaze with hers and without as much as a second thought or glance dismissed the indignant noble. He really was a pompous ass without patients, but she loved him dearly even so.

"Asa'ma'lin!" _(Sister!)_ he called happily walking over to her.

"Uth'melana din itha isa'ma'lin!" _(Long time no see, brother!)_ She said as she met him in a warm, earnest embrace.

"Indeed!" he chuckled as he let go and looked her over.

"You've been practicing your elven I hear." she stated with a content smile he answered with a nod.

They caught up with each other over the next hours and of course she told him of the celebrations to come. He was, after all, her best friend and brother and there would be no wedding without him there to witness it. Unfortunately the happiness they shared at her future was dimmed as Dorian had bad news. He was taking up his father's place in the magisterium after the exalted council was ended. His father had been murdered.

Anuira was horrified and offered him condolences and all the help she could muster. Her defeated look must have bothered him greatly as he told her to buck up, and gifted her with an enchanted crystal for them to converse through.

"You didn't think you would get rid of me so easily, asa'ma'lin?" he chuckled merrily, cocking his head to the side. The light returned to Anuiras eyes as she broke out laughing. Leave it to Dorian to find a way to stay with her even though they were physically worlds apart.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exalted council "middle". I have not followed the game strictly in every aspect here. Mostly because my wanted options did not appear in the game. I've tried not to be to obvious about the changes and I hope I've been able to integrate them well in the story.

As Anuira, Dorian, Sera and Blackwall got closer to the end of their chase, they found that the dragonsbreath the qunari was going to use as one of the means to destroy the south, was in fact a real live dragon.

Shocker…

Battering, slashing and casting their way through said dragon and a horde of qunari, not entirely happy about their pet-dragon being slowly put down. They eventually caught up with the Viddasala. But instead of attacking she told them of how Solas, agent to Fen'harel had deceived them all before running away through the eluvian.

Solas had stopped the mark on Anuiras hand from killing her and helped stop the breach and pointed her in the direction of Skyhold. That she already knew. But apparently Solas had also given Corypheus the orb that tore the sky apart in the first place and was a clamed agent to none other than the betrayer god, Fen'harel of elven lore.

Just wonderful… One more god to battle…

Every word out of the Viddasala's mouth had caused Anuiras fury to ignite further, the betrayal of Solas and the qunari disrespect of other living beings burning like molten lava through her veins.

She was going to hunt down the Viddasala and every last qunari threatening the south, to their deaths.

Then, she was going to find Solas. And she was going to **kill** him.

Slowly.

And preferably, painful…

They followed the qunari through eluvian after eluvian and battled their way through ruins of elven structures. All while the mark of magic once again decided to act up. It was rapidly charging and then discharging uncontrollably at regular intervals if not used. The pain was near constant and utterly soulwrenching by now and Anuira remained standing only through sheer will, fury and adrenalin.

As they again caught up to the Viddasala she sicked her personal huge Saarebas _(qunari mage-slave)_ , Saarath at them. The huge mage of course lost its mind half-trough the battle and disappeared briefly leaving the Inquisitions party to continue their slaughter of qunari spearmen, assassins and shocktroops in their pursuit of their leader.

After what seemed like hours they once again caught up to the annoying Viddasala. Just before she jumped through yet another creators forsaken eluvian she yowled at them that their souls were ash. Basically meaning they were dead.

Seconds later the monstrous Saarebas landed in front of them, effectively cutting them off from the eluvian and the wretched Viddasala whom they were all at this point, itching to kill.

The battel was excruciating. Whatever they had been feeding this particular mage, it had made him ridiculously strong. It was as if he himself was infused with lyrium.

At the end of the battle the only one left standing without crippling injuries was Anuira. Or maybe it was just the adrenaline and rage carrying her forward, she wasn't sure.

"I'll be back." she said over her shoulder, discharging the mark over her head to keep it from exploding on her before stepping through the eluvian. Not even taking notice her companion's very loud objections.

~.o.O.o.~

 

Qunari statues made of stone greeted her everywhere she looked as she stepped out of the eluvian. She twirled around looking at them from different views, chocked at their lifelikeness.

Her mark sparking painfully brought her quickly back to the present and she remembered she had to discharge it. The intervals seemed to have shortened again and she used the mark to get rid of the excess magic threatening to engulf her.

In a moment of wild panic she realized that the mark was spreading, green glowing, sparkling vines snaked their way up her forearm, actually dissolving her armor along the way. The brutal truth of it all dawn on her as she understood the gravity of her situation. She would most likely not make it back to her waiting friends or her betrothed in Winter Palace.

Pure rage sparked in her chest as well as a fierce determination born of her stubbornness. The pain of the mark slowly eating away at her barely registering in her mind as she raced ahead. Resolute in her obsession to take at least the Viddasala down with her.

If she was going to die, at the very least, she was **not** dyeing alone!

Voices speaking in qunlat reached her ears before she could see their owners. She laid eyes on the Viddasala the moment she turned into stone, in front of her very eyes she transformed into solid rock. Then her eyes fell upon a figure she realized she had hoped beyond hope she would not see within leagues of this mess.

"Solas…" she stated, annoyance and rage tainting her words.

Her mark flared, spreading once more in a blaze of green lightning and fire, snaking its vines even higher on her arm. She grasped her arm and grunted in pain as she fell to her knees, face distorting but refusing to let her eyes leave his. Refusing to give in, refusing to give up.

Solas strolled up to her, hands behind his back, emanating that air of superiority he always did. As if every other living being was beneath him. Anuira could have kicked herself for having to look up at him from her knees. It didn't sit well with her at all.

The infuriating elf's eyes shone a glowing bright blue as he looked down at her. It was only for a split second and if she hadn't been so stubborn as to not let her eyes fall from his, she would have missed it. But the surprise at the glowing eyes-phenomena gave way to the surprise of the mark halting all its activity a mere moment later.

She spared a glance at her arm to confirm that the mark had indeed gone silent, no doubt due to Solas glowing eyes-thingy, before gluing her turquoise gaze back on him and quickly getting to her feet again.

"That should give us more time." he said in a warm voice, as if he was speaking to a dear friend. It irked Anuira to no end. "I suspect you have questions."

Anuira wanted nothing more than to rip that look of friendship, sadness and pity of his face. As if he had the right! She wanted to overload her mark and engulf them both into the void but with it disabled she had no real choice other than engaging him in conversation.

"The qunari where trying to kill you." she ground out through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing to slits and spitting daggers. "I wanted to get here first."

"I know." he said simply in the same tone of voice that was rubbing Anuira in all the wrong ways. He then proceeded to willingly tell her about himself and bits and pieces of his past. Being Fen'harel wasn't bad enough, he also revealed he was responsible for the veil, confirmed that he indeed had given Corypheus the orb that broke the sky and last but not least he revealed his plans to destroy the world to recreate his own.

She was overwhelmed by a maelstrom of strong feeling. Dread, anger, sorrow being in the forefront warring for control as the mark once again sprung free full force. Anuira readied herself for the final blast of the mark, trying to gather as much energy as she possibly could before hopefully releasing it to wipe them both from the face of Thedas for good.

Before she could perform her plan Solas grabbed her hand, apologized as he cast a spell severing any control she had over the mark and walked away with the parting words.

"Live well, while time remains."

Anuira had not the strength to get up once more, forced to see him disappeared through an eluvian she could do nothing but scream in gut-wrenching agony as she watched her forearm dissolve into greenish flakes and specks. It was the same process as seeing a demon evaporate, the same green dust.

When her friends finally found her she was lying on her side right side, still staring at the eluvian as she clutched what remained of her left arm to her chest. Her breath was irregular and ragged, she was utterly spent with a thin sheen of sweat covering her ashen face but still she was cursing like a sailor in every language available to her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much the end of Trespasser, but before leaving Halamshiral. Not following the story-line.

"She needs you." Cole said in his usual grim, detached voice. Appearing on the railing behind Cullen he made the man jump five feet in the air in surprise.

"Maker, I would prefer if you don't sneak up on me like that." he said, just a hint of unsteadiness in his voice betraying the unnerved feelings creeping up his back.

"Wait what? Who? Anuira?!" looking at Cole with concern he advanced slightly on the young man… Demon… Spirit… Whatever. Cullen wasn't use to dealing with Cole as he usually avoided him like the blight.

Once Cole had offered to help Cullen forget his past, to move on and Cullen had been furious with him. He hadn't stopped yelling until Anuira intervened telling him he was an ass and almost hitting him upside the head with the rapports she'd come to deliver, when he'd refused to apologize to Cole.  
Cullen had made very little progress when it came to dealing with spirits, demons and magic much to Anuiras dismay. It all terrified him to no end and frustrated him that Anuira instead was fascinated by it.

When she had broached the subject of the anchor making her somewhat a mage he had almost crawled out of his skin and Cullen had been hard-pressed to accept the fact that Anuira had, willingly, taken the well of sorrows into herself. It took several days for him to even be able to touch her again, even though he knew he was hurting her.

He found himself wondering what might have happened this time, apprehensive but still panicking to go to her he was about to ask Cole for directions when Cole started talking.

"She doesn't want you to know, but you need to. She needs to. Dressing-room. Sad, angry tears, cursing." Cole rambled "I want to help but she won't let me. Go there, help her."

He didn't wait for more explanation as he spun around and fell into a sprint towards the dressing-room. His head swam with possible scenarios, each more horrifying than the last. 'Maker please let her be safe.' he offered up a small prayer in his scramble to get to where he needed to be.

Arriving at the dressing-room he found Sera and Blackwall looking dejected outside, both covered with cuts and bruises as well as some bandages here and there. Cullen's was panting slightly from the sprint but his breath and heart nearly stopped at the sight.  
Sera sat on the ground, cross-legged, throwing twigs and small pebbles while cursing like a Rivaini buccaneer with his pants on fire. Blackwall did the opposite by staying silent, eyes on the ground and arms crossed over his chest. Standing he leaned heavily on the wall beside the door. Cullen looked pointedly at them in turns but both just looked away and he felt something chilly grab his heart as he reached for the door. It was eerie quiet from the other side and he felt a bead of sweat forming on his brow at the tension hanging in the air.

Shutting the door behind him with a small but audible thunk, one pair of eyes shifted his way. He saw Dorian, the usually cocky, arrogant Tevinter mage, now clutching a shaking bundle of elf in his lap with a look of helplessness and anger. Cullen was pretty sure his heart at this point skipped a couple of beats in response to the stress of the last few minutes.

"What happened? Is she ok?" he managed to croak between breaths in a strangled voice.

He knew about Dorians preferences, since he had been humiliated in his jealousy towards the warm friendship and flirting between Anuira and Dorian a while back. He had confronted them as they were enthusiastically discussing something about magic in Anuiras quarters and they had proceeded to laughed until they cried. Dorian had shared his aversion towards women and slapped Cullens butt with a suggestive smirk and a wink on his way out making the ex-templar blush all the way to his ears. Thus Cullen was not in the least worried about anything other than the health of his future wife.

"As well as can be expected after being betrayed by someone considered family and having half an arm vaporized without anesthetics." he retorted tiredly. "Now if you wouldn't mind, I think you are the more suitable one of us to deal with this."

"Of course." Cullen said politely as he moved to take the shivering elf from Dorian. The Tevinter glared fireballs at him as usual as he'd developed an aversion for Cullen at the same time that Cullen had withdrawn from Anuira due to his fear of magic. The ex-templar figured he deserved it and never commented on the matter.

"Fenedhis lasa, Solas, len'alas lath'din. Ar ju'itha na'lin fra emma dar'misaan. Ar ju'vena ma, i ar ju'dala ma!" _(Go suck wolfsdick, Solas, dirt-child whom no one loves. I will see your blood on my piercing long blade. I will find you and I will kill you!"_ Anuira growled under her breath, tears spilling from her unseeing eyes to run down her ashen cheeks. Dorian who had not completely extradited himself from the room and met Cullen questioning gaze.

"Oh she does that every now and then. Doesn't respond to anyone or anything since we found her but cursing, that she does." Dorian explained in his exuberant way. "I'm guessing our former resident elf-mage has drawn her ire something fierce."

"If there is nothing else I will take my leave. Do take care of her, lest I hunt you down and feed you to the darkspawn, hm?" Dorian added with a pointed look before walking out the door to let Cullen try and coax his lover out of whatever prison of the mind she was in.

~.o.O.o.~

 

She was going to kill him. Hunt him down, flay him and carve his heart out with a spoon!

Not only did the pretentious son of a nug betray everything they stood for, he refused her help, he refused to look for a way that didn't involve killing of the whole of Thedas, he refused to see that maybe he was **not** all-knowing. For a man who claimed to have protected the innocent from cruel false gods he was extremely lacking in the humble-department and dangerously close to doing the same thing he proclaimed to stand against.  
As if all this was not enough he had taken her left arm and the mark but left her with the pain. He had mercilessly left her to watch her own arm dissolve into nothingness and to feel every torturous, burning spark of pain shooting through her body like wildfire. It seemed like an eternity and with no certainty that anyone would or even could come for her.

He had claimed time and time again that she had impressed him, that she was not what he expected. Creators he had even flirted in the beginning. They had become close and after the loss of her entire clan he had become almost as close as Dorian. A brother.

"Ar ju'halam ma, era'harel." _(I will end you, abomination.)_ she spat hoarsely at no one in particular, still feeling her body shiver in agony, making her want to scream until her lungs gave out. She felt bitter tears of pain, both physical and emotional, run down her cheeks.

There was a slight shift in gravity and the world tilted ever so slightly. She cursed, a long line of elven conveying her utter disgust with a certain someone but otherwise ignored the shifts to the best of her ability even though everything hurt past the point of sanity.  
Without a healer or herbs, or booze, to dull the pain there was only one way she knew how to block out pain. Hate, anger, love and compassion. Love and compassion she was sorely lacking at this point therefore she made due with her burning hate and fury to keep the abyss of unconsciousness at bay.

She had no time for that. If she fell under, no one knew how long she would be gone for or if she'd even come back at all.

No she was not having that. She would not give Solas the satisfaction of going unchallenged.

~.o.O.o.~

 

"Anuira, love? Please. Come back to me." Cullen pleaded for the millionth time, his elven lover still cradled to his chest as he kissed her temple, nuzzling her hair gently.

Anuira had been unresponsive for a long while. He had lost track of time and how many times their friends had checked in on them. Her tears had stopped flowing and her cursing was not so frequent anymore. Her eyes was half lidded and her body seemed to relax somewhat. Her grasp on her left arm, or what was left of it, was still there but her knuckles was not white anymore, the sheen of sweat on her forehead had dissipated and her breathing had deepened.  
Cullen was just about to shift Anuira in his arms when he heard a commotion outside. Upset voices muffled by the walls of the room.

"I demand you let me see her!" said one in a botched attempt at sounding authoritative.

"You will see her when she is ready and not a moment sooner." answered a female voice in with an Orlesian accent. Her words were dripping with politeness but was thick with implied threats.

"This is not acceptable. If she is unable to continue the meeting we will have to make a decision without her!" the self-important, male voice said solemnly.

"This must all be very convenient for you I gather. The mighty Herald of Andraste out of commission, leaving you to be the voice of reason for the entire south of Thedas. As if you could ever fill the Inquisitors shoes…" Snarked a male voice with a slight Tevinter accent.

All three voices then clashed, making it impossible to make anything out until he heard Cassandras exasperated shout 'Enough!', that shut them up and their voices withdrew.

His eyes drew back to Anuira with a sigh as he thought how right Dorian probably was. Cullen couldn't stand the nobility and their arrogance and he would be a very happy man if he would never again have to deal with their politics.

He stopped breathing when his eyes locked on Anuiras. Two alert turquoises gleaming steadily at him. She looked, tired, broken and battered but she had that unyielding spark in her eyes again and her body was no longer shivering though it was tense. Color had returned to her cheeks and her one hand went to caress his face.

"Thank you my love." she said in a strained, rough voice. "For giving me a light to follow back here."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The definit ending of Trespasser DLC. And the start of my take on what happened next.

When Anuira walked into the council-chamber she caught the last bits and pieces of a whining from Arl Teagan and Count Montfort.

"I agree something must be done, but we cannot lose the Inquisition now. We stand on the brink of war with the Qunari!" said the Orlesian count.

"Yes because this Solas provoked them in the first place!" shouted Arl Teagan causing Josephine to speak up, exasperated with their bickering.

"The Inquisition did not cause this threat. We informed the summit of the danger…"

"The danger posed by qunari spies inside _your_ organization!" Arl Teagan interrupted angrily seeming void-bent on forgetting the Venatori-spies and assassins inside the very heart of Denerim, threatening to kill the Fereldan King and Queen. Those Venatori spies who the Inquisition oh so graciously had helped dispatch.

"Without _our_ organization, none of us would be here to complain." Cassandra interjected more than a little irked by the hostility of the Fereldan Arl who had the gall to sigh at her remark.

"No one has forgotten what you have done. But Corypheus is two years dead!" the Arl continued as arrogant as ever

Fickle, ungrateful shemlen wretch!

She had just lost her left arm to a traitor elf god planning to destroy Thedas as they knew it, in succession of stopping a bloody qunari-invasion! And this was the thanks she got?  
She ignored the mediating from the Orlesian Count and looked around at every one in the chamber holding up the book that started the blighted mess. Her scowling, burning gaze sent most pairs of eyes to the ground and caused more than a few of the people gathered to squirm uncomfortably.

"You all know what this is." Anuiras voice rang out, full of authority and thickened with fury. She'd had enough of the idiocy of the nobles, it didn't matter what creators forsaken country they came from, all they cared for was looking out for themselves and as soon as the void stopped knocking at their door they tossed aside anything and anyone who had helped or even saved them.

Blighted curs…

"A writ, from Divine Justinia, authorizing the formation of the Inquisition. We pledged to close the breach, find those responsible, and restore order. With or without anyone's approval." She turned to Arl Teagan and bored her turquoise eyes into his thick skull, narrowing them to slits in annoyance that the bastard had the nerve to look displeased and testy.

"It wasn't a formally authorized treaty that saved Ferelden's people." she spat at him before turning to Duke Montfort with an equally poisonous glare.

"It wasn't careful diplomacy that ended your inane civil war." her voice and posture laced with promise of more intimate details of the nation's failings should they feel the need to interrupt her.

"It was NEVER about the organization. It was about people doing what was necessary." With those words she held out the book toward the council and dropped it flat on the ground with a large thump. Cassandra had her eyes hard closed at this point, not moving a muscle in her distressed state. Anuira could only guess at how badly the Divine wanted to pummel the idiots sitting next to her for their pompous and self-righteous attitudes.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a world to save… Again…" with that she turned, stomping out of the chamber.

"Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded." she added with an icy calm over her shoulders before disappearing out the doors without so much as a glance backwards.

~.o.O.o.~

 

She had to get away, didn't really matter were, just away. Before she decided to assassinate all the blighted cretins running their mouths at her.

Her arm still hurt, or what was left of it, she was dead tired, not to mention hungry and she needed a drink. But most of all he needed peace and quiet. None of it was to be had at her current location it seemed, at least not without annoying interruptions. Everywhere she went people were pulling on her, asking her questions, blaming or fussing over her.

Anuira went to the stables in a hurry, desperate to get away. She told the stable-boy to get a message to Cullen then got on her frostback elk, 'Tadwinks' and disappeared into the wilderness between Halamshiral and the Waking Sea.  
She let Tadwinks decide the way but set the pace to a gallop. With no reins and no saddle she imagined the people who saw her must have thought her every bit the savage Dalish they always feared her to be. Even the elves who made up most of the lower parts of Halamshiral looked at her sideways.

Ignorant racist bastards.

After a times hard riding they came upon a creek in a small clearing where she decided to camp for a while. She let the elk roam as it willed since she knew it would return upon her beck and call. It had grown rather attached to her and Tadwinks rarely strayed from her side even when let loose. In return she never rode any other animal other than him. He was hers as much as she was his, a matter of hunters-pride for Anuira.

The huge elk nuzzled her good arm slightly while nickering a soft grunt as if he sensed her distress. He was good at that.  
Anuira stroked the elk softly down its forehead to its muzzle a couple of times, earning her a huffing snort before moving towards the creek to find a spot to meditate.

"You'll tell me if there's danger right?" she said warmly to Tadwinks, more rhetorical than an actual question. He snorted a whining mew at her, indignantly as if the very thought of anything else was unthinkable.

She focused on Fen'harel as she sank deep into her medative state and slowly began inquiring answers from the well, which were becoming easier every time she meditated. The voices greeted her and gave her bits and pieces of knowledge about the ancient elven war, Fen'harel and the past that was lost due to his betrayal. Some things was easy to discern, other things near impossible.

She was walking aimlessly through her own mind, listening to the voices talk and as time progressed she found herself in yet another clearing. Much like the one she and Tadwinks was in but somehow it was greener, more luscious. Mild chock flooded her senses as she realized she was in the fade and when the voices suddenly stopped Anuiras one hand went to her daggers in a knee-jerk reaction. Her eyes automatically darting around looking for any sign of danger.

The only thing she could see was two ravens looking at her from their place high up in a massive tree. It was utterly quiet as the ravens and Anuira stared at each other.  
The voices of the well abruptly started musing about fear and deceit, making Anuira jump as wisps of smoke twirled around her when the voices materialized slightly. The smoke never strayed far from her, sometimes enveloping her slightly only to slip away and reappear elsewhere. All the while mumbling of the history lost to all.

Fear and Deceit, the spirit ravens of Dirthamen. She could feel the truth of the wells agitated whispers and if it was one thing she had learned in her years as a hunter and being the Inquisitor, it was to never disregard her gut-feeling. Especially when the voices from the well agreed.

"An'daran atish'an Geal i Harel, enansal tarsul ma." _(Greetings, Fear and Deceit/(Trick), blessings upon you.)_ She said bowing her head politely, but never letting her eyes stray from the ravens forms. They were both watching her, cocking their heads this way and that, appraising her with those black beady eyes of theirs.

After a moment the black majestic birds cawed and moved as if to bow their heads back at her. It was more like they were bowing their entire body hanging horizontally from the branches but something told Anuira they were acknowledging her as their beady eyes never left hers. She was absolutely stunned that the spirits would take notice of her and was startled when the voices of the Vir Abelasan once again started an agitated and disharmonious murmur. Their smoke twitching and swirling around her in an upset manner as the voices spoke. This time in what Anuira perceived as disbelief.

"Ean or venuralas? Thu? Ahnsul?" _(Birds of god? How? Why?)_ The voices rambled while Anuira admired the huge ravens in careful awe. She knew the spirits of Fear and Deceit was precarious creatures and she was very surprised they left her alone. But mostly she wondered how in the void she had stumbled into the fade.

"I've'an'virelan." _(Fade walker/ dreamer)_ chimed the voices of the well in answer to her unspoken questions as the huge ravens stretched their wings and took flight.

~.o.O.o.~

 

Anuira awoke to the nudging of a warm muzzle to her face, she looked around in sudden distress of not knowing where she was. Slowly it dawned on her, she was still in the clearing by the creek and Tadwinks being a dutiful elk had woken her up because the sun had started to set.  
Sitting up she realized the striking resemblance between this clearing and the one she had found in the fade. Was it the same one? Had she dreamed of the history of this clearing? That would explain why the spirits had left her well enough alone.

Mentally shaking herself she got up and decided not to pursue the matter this evening. She had enough to deal with as it was. Time was going to answer all her questions for her whether she liked it or not, dwelling didn't help.

Before mounting and heading back to Halamshiral, she patted the elk softly on the flank and neck murmuring thanks to the animal for guarding her and waking her up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen curses at the nobles of Orlais and gets hot and heavy with Lavellan. Smut, starting about half-way-through the chapter.

Cullen was getting nervous. Anuira had been gone for the entire day and this after tirelessly working day and night to stop a qunari invasion, having half her arm brutally taken away as well as having a minor mental breakdown. It was not like her to flee for so long no matter how dire the situation became. Hide she would do, frequently, to her advisors grievance, but never had she taken off where no one could easily find her.

Cullen, worried as he was, contemplated organizing a manhunt to find her as he walked in to the stables for what must have been the hundredth time this evening. To his utter relief he was met by the sound of Tadwinks nickering grunts, snorts and huffs. He would know that sound almost anywhere. The happiness he felt washed over him in waves as he walked over to where she stood, cuddling a very content and happy frostback elk.

"I was worried." He stated in a voice hushed but warm. She turned her head to look at him with a faint apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry Cullen. I needed to gather my thoughts, in peace. I know I should have…" she broke of as Cullen raised a finger to her mouth.

"It's ok love, you've had a couple of dreadful days. But please, try to inform me with more than a stuttering stable-boy next time?" he joked half serious with a raised eyebrow, leaning in to kiss her soft lips. Anuiras arm instantly found its way around his neck and her hand ended up nestling itself in his blond curls.  
Cullen couldn't help himself as he deepened the kiss, pressing her as tight as he possibly could, one hand trailing down to her behind squeezing her buttock gently. She sighed in contentment and reveled in his touch as she drew nonsense patterns along his neck.

His blood was almost boiling and he his heart pounded in his chest by the time they broke apart and judging by Anuiras heavy breathing, she was as needy as he was.

"Let me just put Tadwinks in his stall." She breathed, eyes clouded with passion as she brushed her lips to his in a faint kiss.

With the elk safely in his stall, with plenty of hay to keep him happy, they began making their way to Anuiras borrowed quarters in the upper levels of Halamshiral. They tried to make haste without being to conspicuous and they made it almost all the way before they ran into a group of nobles. They exclaimed at the sight of them and proceeded to crowd the elf with their questions and inquiries. There were accusation mixed with the questions and disappointed lectures and Cullens feelings were running rampant at the way the nobles disrespected Anuira.  
As if they had the right to judge her after all she'd done for them, for all of Thedas. She had already done everything they'd ever asked and more but still they were discontent.

"Makers breath, do you vultures ever stop?" Cullen ground out through clenched teeth, glaring daggers at the nobles while gathering up the tired, dejected elf in his arms to shield her from the onslaught.

"Excuse us." he offered stiffly, emanating anger as he roughly pushed passed the pack of now disgruntled nobles who spit snide remarks after them. He felt himself snap at a comment about how someone as eligible as him fiddling around with a dirty knife ear was such a waste.

"Oh for the love of… Piss off!" he barked testily, glowering so hard one might think the nobles would catch on fire.  
In his arms Anuira was shaking with effort of containing her laughter at her lover's outburst. It was so rare to hear Cullen curse and every time he did, no matter the situation Anuira always ended up giggling or laughing her butt of. Sure he could yell and glare as well as anyone but him cursing was almost none existent, being the prude he was.

Cullen turned back around and stalked the last few meters to their destination, leaving the chocked nobles to stew in their own contempt.  
As the door slammed closed behind them Anuira reached up to cup Cullens cheek. He set her down on the floor while leaning in to her touch, arms still locked around her impossibly thin waist.

"You are so cute!" she exclaimed with a small giggle making Cullen flush bright red.

"Cute? Maker… I'm not a kitten…." he sulked, looking intently at their feet as he waited for his bride to be to stop her incessant snickering.

"Ar lath 'ma soun vheraan." _(I love you, my strong lion.)_ She said, voice warm and full of sincerity after reigning in her giggling. Snaking her right hand round his waist she laid her head to his chest with a content sigh.  
Cullen smiled at those words he knew so well by know, holding her tight to him before leaning down to taste her lips. Slowly their passion built and stirred them on, the kiss deepening until they were out of breath, clawing at each other's clothing.

They left a trail of clothing behind as they made their way to the bed, kissing and groping in pent up passion from days apart. Reaching the bed Cullen all but threw the dainty elf on it, making his way up her torso in a trail of hot kisses and nibbles. His hands leaving goosebumps in their wake as he trailed them softly against the silken skin of her thighs.  
Anuiras body tensed, back arching into his touch, desperate to eradicate any space between them. Her breath was coming in fast shaky huffs stained with whimpers and soft moans, driving the ex-templar slowly delirious with need.  
Finding her breasts he caught her nipple between his teeth, softly nipping earning him a loud gasp as her nails dug into the small of his back.

Their lips crashed once again as Cullen ghosted his hand down her side to her knee pulling it upwards slightly before trailing his hand up her inner thigh, swallowing the writhing elf's mewling as he closed in on her core.  
She was bucking wildly and pressing against him, trying to hurry him along as he trailed a finger gently down her slit. The touch caused Anuira to tense as a bowstring, breaking their kiss as her head threw back and his name escaped her lips in a delicious whimper.  
His fingers slipped with ease into her hot, slick core as he worked her pleasure-nub simultaneously with his thumb. Trailing the tip of his tongue along Anuiras ear, ripped a gasping cry from her lips that stroked his ego to no end.

He was usually a bumbling idiot, stumbling over his words, making a fool out of himself when he was around her. But her way of almost melting in his embrace, her response to his every touch and kiss, gave him all the confidence needed to lose himself in their passion. His uneasy self-consciousness drained from him completely.

She was grinding against him, eyes glazed over and twitching irregularly as her hand was trailing every bit of skin she could find in between kisses, gasps and groans.

Cullen couldn't bare it any more. The need to bury himself deep inside her was overwhelming and as he withdrew from her hotness she whimpered and bucked impatiently. Shuddering he aligned his length against her slick folds, pausing there to get a hold on himself. The elf was not having it. Her legs snaked around him in a vice grip and she pushed him inside her wet core in one swift movement. The movement made them both moan loudly and the ex-templar at this point was trembling with desire.

After a few careful and slow thrusts they got lost in the storm of their passion. Cullen's length bottomed out his lover with every thrust, hitting that wonderful spot inside that made her walls clench in spasms around him. He groaned her name against her lips as their pace picked up. She was clinging to him as if her life depended on it, kissing any part of him she could reach while meeting each thrusts with a flick of her hips. Desire spread like wildfire through their bodies, pooling in the pit of their gut just waiting to erupt in a tidalwave of pleasure.

She exploded in delirious waves of pleasure as he buried himself to the hilt in her hotness and roughly palmed one of her breaths, pinching and rolling her nipple with agile fingers. As her entire body convulsed with the peak of her pleasure, she called out his name as well as praise to the creators and her clenching core caused Cullen to tumble over the edge himself. Grunting her name against her neck, he emptied inside her with a few hard, erratic thrusts.

He rolled them over to put the tiny elf on top as they panted, clinging to each other, waiting for their high to where off.  
It didn't take long before Cullen heard Anuiras breathing become deep and even and her body went limp and heavier. He smiled to himself and wondered how in the blazes she'd been able to keep her eyes open during their tryst.  
He shifted out from under his wife to be to get hold of the covers, pulling them up over them as he lay back down at her side to revel in her closeness. As he slipped one arm over her waist she snuggled up against him in her sleep, sighing contently as she felt his warmth against her skin.

"You are amazing." Cullen mumbled as he kissed her temple before closing his eyes, drifting off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going home from Halamshiral.

Making their way back to Skyhold from Halamshiral took about two days by horse, or elk in Anuiras case. Not being in too much of a hurry, with heavy supply wagons, they kept the horses walking and only cantered if really needed.  
When late afternoon came they found themselves a nice spot to settle for the night, camping out was not exactly a favorite pastime for people like Josephine but Anuira loved every second of it. Being close to nature was soothing and reminded her of her time with her family before all this craziness with the Inquisition.

It didn't take long for tents to start going up and for the campsite to turn into a bustling anthill of people working together to ensure a pleasant evening. As soon as Anuiras tent was up and Tadwinks was properly taken care of, she took off into the wilderness, as was pretty much her custom.  
Everyone who ever traveled with her knew she sometimes just up and left, either for hunting or no reason at all. Her closest circle knew she went into the wilderness to clear her head, meditate and relax. It was as if nature itself recharged her and she was almost always in a better mood when she returned.

This trip they were in no way in need of food since they had enough brought with them from Halamshiral. But Anuira needed the time alone to be just her. Not the Inquisitor, not the Herald of Andraste or the annoying 'knife-ear', just her with no problems to solve, no politics to consider and no pressure. Only nature and of course the occasional animal to keep her company.

Walking slowly through the brush, taking in every sound, smell and sight she came upon some royal elfroot she stuffed in a pouch in her belt. And as she stopped to pick some mushrooms that would go lovely in a stew, she also found a bush with juicy berries that became her dinner.  
With her stomach no longer rumbling, she was in no hurry to get back to the others, solitude had always been something she enjoyed and since the Inquisition started it had become a need.

Climbing the huge oak tree she encountered proved a bit of a challenge with only one hand, but with the use of her standard hunter leather-cord, she eventually made it up.  
Settling somewhere in the middle of the crown of the tree, well sheltered from prying eyes, she leaned her back against the brambled trunk. One leg pulled up to her chin as the other dangled freely off the side of the thick, rough branch.

Her thoughts immediately went to her now long since dead family and friends. Mihvera, a clan mage and Anuiras best friend, was often together with her in the wilderness. They had been an unbeatable team, Anuira with bow and dagger, hunting for game as Mihvera scouted for herbs and edible plants and roots. They never came back empty handed and always with smiles on their lips and stories to tell.

She missed her friend and her clan terribly and it hurt her deeply to think that they had probably not even received the grace of a proper burial.  
 _"Mythal'enaste."_ _(Roughly: By the grace of Mythal.)_ she thought as tears prickled the corner of her eyes. The thought of them all brutally slaughtered filled her mind. All because of her and the shems claims that she was the Herald of a god she didn't even believe in.

"May their ashes be gathered by Falon'Din and carried safely." her voice only a breathless whisper, thick grief as she prayed.

She must have fallen asleep while letting her thoughts wander because she found herself walking the same clearing where she'd meet the ravens a few days ago. It was the same golden-red, autumn sun glowing trough the canopy, the same luscious green warmth surrounding her and in the same massive oak-tree, the largest in the clearing, sat the same two voidblack Ravens.

Ignoring the murmuring voices of Vir Abelasan, who took the form of puffs and wisps of smoke continuously billowing around her as they always seemed to do in the fade, she greeted the ravens. They both cawed as they cocked their heads at her, looking her up and down much as they did the last time they met.

"They will all betray you. You are as alone now as you where the day you walked out of the fade." a dark rumbling voice echoed in her mind. She looked softly at the Ravens trying to figure out which one was trying to get under her skin.

"Not even your own kin needs you. Mutilated and burning as you are. Useless!" said a slightly lighter but more arrogant voice.

Anuira couldn't help herself, all thoughts of sorrow and grief dissipated as she started snickering quietly.

The Dalish legends of Dirthamen binding the spirits of fear and deceit filled her mind and the snickering turned to a full blown giggle. They were so obviously trying to do the same thing to her, to her of all people. She who had lived to see her worst nightmares come true, battling horrors on a daily basis but had managed to pull herself together time and time again. Anuira who also had an unyielding conviction that one was never truly alone, as long as one held love and cherished memories close to one's heart.

She knew their words was supposed to be intimidating and make her quiver or at least react with an inkling of dread. But all she could think of was the irony of it all.

Her fascination with the elven lore had made her learn anything she could find by heart. She had never been afraid of spirits and always found it sad that she was not able to communicate with them as a mage would have. To her, who had sought out every piece of knowledge she could find after being bestowed with the anchor, their words rang hollow. They could not hurt her unless she let them. Both her body and soul was trained to breaking-point and she knew how to bend the fade to her will.

"Is that not the same trick you tried with Dirthamen so many, many years ago?" She said, voice strained with contained humor, looking pointedly from one raven to the other.

"You mock us?" both voices asked in curious chorus as the ravens cocked their heads to study her odd reaction.

"Din. Ame myathem ithan ma." _(No. I'm honored to see/[to meet] you.)_ she answered truthfully.

The ravens stayed quiet for a while, only looking at her, ruffling and puffing up their feathers from time to time. They seemed to contemplate her reaction as they watched her, cross-legged on the ground.  
One of them spread its massive wings and slid gracefully to the ground a few feet from where Anuira was sitting. Before her very eyes it transformed in a swirling cloud of smoke into what others would have described as a fear demon.

"Vyn haras em'an." _(You should fear us.)_ Geal, the demon, or rather spirit, of fear hissed arrogantly at her. She still didn't budge, only looked at it with sparkling turquoise eyes and a warm smile.

If what Solas had told her was right, and if him being Fen'harel was anything to go by, she was betting he was very much right in all he had tried to teach her about the nature of spirits and the fade. It all came down to having control over one's emotions.  
The fade and spirits in general, reacted to the person, or rather the feelings and state of the person doing the interacting. Thus if she did not let them, the spirits would likely not attack her. Though there were always exceptions to every rule especially when dealing with powerful spirits.  
Spirits was, very simplified, categorized in aggressive and non-aggressive and all spirits could be twisted from their purpose by the interactor's foolishness or driven insane by other outside influence.

Emotions was often fickle and even a trained mind could not often control it to perfection. Anuira may have had had less training than most mages and she was technically not even a mage, but she had one thing most people did not. An iron will laced with a compassioned soul and a skilled physical body. Sure she had a temper that could rival that of Elgar'nan himself according to most who suffered it but there was never any doubt about her kindness, even though she was an assassin mastered in subterfuge.  
She did know how to and was quiet proficient in reigning in her temper if the situation called for it.

The second raven, Harel, landed beside Geal and in a flurry of smoke, it too transformed. The form it took was that of a small elven boy, innocent-looking in every aspect apart from its eyes. Purple as they were and filled with a sinister looking mischief they made his smile seem anything but friendly.

"Te'haras em'an, ahnsul?" _(You don't fear us, why?")_ Harel inquired in a young silvery voice.

"Why should I fear what might be when it might as well not be?" she shot back humorously, cocking her head at them.

"There's obviously something you either want or need from me since you have not yet to attack or leave me be." Anuira continued still looking at the two spirits in turns.

Geal hissed wordlessly at her before both spirits morphed back into their raven-forms. Anuira barely had time to raise an eyebrow much less move, as the two ravens shot past her, close enough for the tip of their wings to brush against her cheek.  
Her eyes followed the ravens' path and stopped at the sight of a hooded figure standing in the shadows. Barely visible under the huge oak-tree where she fist laid eyes on the ravens.

"You need to wake up." A silvery voice, filled with sorrow echoed around her as the hooded figure raised one hand making a fluid, unreadable motion. She wasn't sure if he'd spoken or if the words had been directed to her mind as it was immediately followed by the cacophony of the wells voices.

"Danger! Wake up! Josa!" _(Josa – run)_ the voices screeched in her mind so loud it felt like they were clawing at her insides. Her hands went up to cradle her head and she started as she recognized the feel of her left hand on her face. She tore it down into visual range and stared at it but before she could react further she was cast into the waking world and the pain coming with having an arrow to lodged in her shoulder.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting home from Halamshiral - part 2.

"HERALD!" a scout cried out as Anuira stumbled and more or less fell out of the grove behind her.  
It was already well past evening, darkness had fallen and she was bloodied, hurting and pissed off.

Blighted shemlen bandits!

She tried to push herself back onto her feet but her body would not move an inch as the elven scout, Loranil scurried to her side to help her.  
With his strong arms helping her keep upright she managed to limp her way back to the campsite and as soon as she came into view of the fire there were an uproar. People were tripping over themselves in their hurry to help.

She was laid down gently near the fire and cautiously stripped of her leather armor, leaving her in her leggings and tunic. Someone yelled for Cullen and someone commanded more light. She felt ghosting fingers of fire poke around her sore wounds, heard gasps of horror and cursing but couldn't focus her eyes on anything in the blur surrounding her.  
Hands held her down at the orders of a stern deep voice of reason as searing hot pain shot through her, rivaling the pain of having her arm dissolved. Her brain hardly registered the murmuring voices pleading for forgiveness as a feverish scream tore through her throat in reaction to the agony being administrated on her shoulder.

"What happened?" her disoriented mind singled out the familiar voice of her lover. It felt like Cullen was beside her in the blink of the eye, grasping her hand, whispering to her. And it was his voice that accompanied her into unconsciousness, away from the pain and burning sensation spreading like wildfire in her veins.

_"_ _Poison."_ was her last thought before darkness claimed her.

~.o.O.o.~

"What happened?!" Cullen inquired as he hurried towards the fire. Everyone shook their heads or shrugged sadly, averting their eyes in a reply that did nothing to still his anxiety. He ordered a company of scouts to check out their surroundings for clues and then stopped cold as he broke through the crowd of concerned onlookers surrounding the source of the commotion.

"Andraste preserve me…." Cullen whispered in horror, eyes going wide and all color draining out of his features as he took in the mangled heap of his lover, in front of him.

One dagger firmly clasped in a rigid grip, the other one still sheathed seeing as she only had one hand to work with since her run in with Solas. She had an arrow lodged deep in her left shoulder, several small cuts and bruises and her complexion was deadly pale. A long slash across her face stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin and there was a really nasty gash in her right thigh that looked almost bone-deep.

As the healer started pulling out the arrow her body convulsed erratically and a shrill scream erupted from the injured elf making Cullen wince.  
He could not imagine what Anuira must have fought through to end up in this state. Even with only one hand she was a considerable foe who held her own like nothing he'd ever seen. If anything the loss of her arm had only made her that more dangerous and intimidating as she relied heavily on cunning and subterfuge.

Cullen saw her eyes flicker unseeingly through the crowd, gasping and whimpering and in an instant he snapped out of his daze to be by her side. Taking her tiny hand in his he felt her let go of the knife, sending it clamoring to the ground as her impossibly strong fingers locked around his in an a desperate and unyielding grip.

"It's ok love. You're safe now." Cullen murmured softly, pulling he hand to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. He both felt and saw as she went limp in a matter of moments but put his trust in the veteran mage-healer who wore a look of fierce determination as he worked frantically to both knit flesh and combat the aggressive poison until Clemence, the resident tranquil alchemist, came back with the right combination of herbs to make an antidote and administer poultices.

~.o.O.o.~

It was a quiet morning even though people scurried about packing and stuffing things away in the wagons. Not many spoke and if they did they did so in hushed notes as if they were afraid to aggravate something or someone. Everyone was on edge as they hurried to break camp after breakfast, weary and suspicious after the previous night's tumultuous ending.

The scouts had found the site of the struggle and reported five dead by various wounds and one survivor had been brought to camp barely breathing from his injuries.  
Cullen had wanted nothing more than to kill the man but as usual Leliana, who was traveling with them to gather her things before returning to the Divine's side, was the cunning voice of reason. She persuaded him to leave the man in her care and she was going to make him spill any information of worth of that Cullen was sure.

It didn't take long before Leliana came asking permission to enter the tent he shared with Anuira. He'd sat up, clad in only his white tunic and leather-pants and bid her enter without hesitation.  
She'd found out that the battle was indeed an attempt on the former inquisitors life. Though the bandits did not know who their benefactor was as they'd been contacted through at least one middleman.  
They discussed possible enemies for a long time without reaching any kind of substantial hypothesis and decided that they'd investigate further at a later date. After Lelianas departure, Cullen had laid carefully back down beside his love, watching her fitful sleep until it claimed him as well.

The prisoner was not badly treated but he was shunned in disgust by most people in the traveling company. The wagon he was in was heavily guarded even without orders, everyone kept a glaring eye on it and him and the prisoner could more than once be seen squirming uncomfortably in shame under baleful scowls.  
Anuiras wagon on the other hand was being watched with more concern and reverence than what she would have ever liked. Everyone on edge for more dangers, scouting parties coming and going frequently to make sure safe travels for the rest of the company.

When the caravan broke camp again after a quick rest and bite to eat a familiar and very irritated voice rang out clear as day, washing away any hint of worry and anxiety from everyone, except the man taken prisoner who went several shades paler.

"Creators Cullen! Would you **stop** fussing like an old lady!" Anuira exclaimed vividly. "I'm **fine**!"

"You're **not** fine!" Cullen barked angrily in response. "Makers breath, you were unconscious until recently!"

The couples bickering made the heavy atmosphere dissipate, people relaxed and here and there some even erupted into snickering.  
She was under the impression she was well enough to lead the caravan from the back of Tadwinks. Cullen however was not having it and all but tied her down to keep her from opening up her wounds again. Anuira was trapped in her wagon the reminder of the way to Skyhold, to her dismay.

Clemence was ordered to accompany the sulking elf, to keep her in her place and to tend to her wounds as poultices were required several times a day to counter the nasty poison she'd been dosed with.  
Much to everyone's relief Anuira calmed down when Clemence started talking with her, being immune to her temper due to tranquility.

Anuira was probably one of the few people in Thedas not intimidated or disgusted by tranquils, not thinking less of them or treating them differently. Did she like or approve of the rite of tranquility? Creators no! But all she herself could do was work with Cassandra to find a cure and in the meanwhile treating the tranquils with the respect she'd give any other living being.

~.o.O.o.~

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief as they entered the courtyard of Skyhold again. Nothing more of note had happened on the way but being within the walls of the hold gave everyone the feeling of being safe as they returned to their duties.

Orders for disbanding where distributed the following morning, with more than a few complaints as well as joyful exclamations and tearful goodbyes.

Some people departed almost instantly as others sought exemption from the orders. Some people had nothing to return to, some had families and others had built themselves a home on the slopes surrounding Skyhold.  
Anuira had received the lands surrounding Skyhold as a gift from Queen Anora and King Alistair of Ferelden, as appreciation for saving the world, and people wanting to stay were welcome to inhabit any part of that land as long as they did not threaten the peace or the rules set by Anuira.

The prisoner from the failed attempt to assassinate the former Inquisitor, was returned to Val Royeaux together with Leliana who left a few days after arriving at Skyhold. A small band of rouge scouts and skirmishers followed her lead in bringing the prisoner to judgement.  
Knowing Leliana she would probably try her persuasiveness on him a bit more before surrendering him to the Divines judgement. Neither Cassandra nor her left hand, Leliana, was happy with the assassination attempt and would most likely not stop sniffing until the culprit had been found and dealt with.

~.o.O.o.~

A few weeks after returning to Skyhold there was only a skeleton staff left but the slopes below where bustling with life as people settling there where in the process of building themselves new lives. Elves and humans alike, because if there was one thing the Inquisition had taught them it was that no race was without faults and idiots where raised, not born.

Even though Skyhold looked quiet without its army and the constant stream of people coming and going. It was far from it. Anuira was still coordinating searches for Solas with Cullen and even if most of the Inquisitions inner circle now had scattered to the winds, they held in constant contact through messengers and crows. Or in Dorians case through magic crystal.

There was still a substantial force of spies working for Leliana and thus at the beck and call of Anuira to some extent. Josephine still managed to find time to help with diplomacy whenever she was needed and Skyhold still held a moderate army since nearly every man and woman living on the slopes was a former soldier, still willing to help out if need arose. In return they were supported with wares they needed to a considerate discount, curtesy of Anuira and the mines, quarries and lumber mills she'd brokered ownership over.

Life was settling into a steady pace of mundane with few reports of things that needed to be taken care of and even though they never relented in finding facts and clues about Solas. Anuira and Cullen still took time to enjoy planning their wedding as well as reveling in the fact that they had almost all the time in the world to enjoy each other.

A couple of weeks before their wedding Anuira got a message. The messenger was in poor shape, injured badly and only hanging on by a thread as the horse trotted into the courtyard. He was gone almost immediately after being helped to the ground by the gate-keepers.  
The message was short but clear as day. Darkspawn was threatening Highever, emanating from somewhere around the coastline near Harper's Ford.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkspawn and Tevinter cultist! What would DA be without them =P

"You can't go alone! It's madness!" Cullen roared, scowling at the stone-faced elf in full battle-attire walking promptly away from him.  
Anuira had heard it all before, and quite frankly she was sick of it, she refused to lay down and become a 'lady in distress' over the fact that she now only had one arm. She was still going to fight for everyone and everything she deemed worthy but Cullen disagreed in his, according to her, misplaced need to protect her.

"I'm going and that's final!" she hissed, spinning on her heal to face him as she reached Tadwinks.

A small band of scouts consisting of mainly rogues and skirmishers were gathered there in the courtyard, ready to go the moment Anuira gave the orders. They all knew the importance of getting reinforcements to Highever as soon as possible since the only wardens, not currently returned to Weisshaupt in the Anderfells, was still within Skyhold. Not counting the King of Ferelden himself.

"But why does it have to be you? I could just as well go and you could…" Cullen started to argue but trailed off in annoyance as Anuira swung herself on to Tadwinks.

"You? Lead a band of rouges and skirmishers on a covert mission?" She spat, exasperated. "Please, you'd be a bogfisher in the Winterpalace!"

Cullen was not happy to be left behind and normally he would never be. But this time someone she trusted explicitly would have to coordinate the communications between Weisshaup, Denerim and Skyholds moving troops. The army consisting of all the people who'd settled on Skyholds slopes who were still willing to contribute to the cause, unofficially of course.

She had a funny feeling about this supposed threat in Highever. A feeling only strengthened by her latest run-in with Geal and Harel in the fade during the night. Their hooded friend had not made an appearance since the time in the woods on their way home from Halamshiral but the two mischievous spirits was more than a handful to handle without adding to her troubles. What really bothered her was that neither Geal nor Harel ever implied the reason they were still pestering her.

The spirits only danced around her questions with cryptic nonsense or questions of their own. But they kept coming back to one very disturbing thing, a loved one's demise. Everything the annoying spirits said contained subtle clues that hinted at impending death for someone she loved. It made her even more determined to have Cullen safe in within the ranks of their still rather large regiment of troops.

"Cullen, you are still the Commander of our troops, your place is with them. Unfortunately we can ill afford to let Highever wait for them to march all the way there. We need to get our warden friends there as fast as possible." Anuira tried in a soothing voice, well aware of the ex-templars worry for her safety. He did not feel any better about this mission than she did and for her to willingly go into harm's way alone when both of them knew something was amiss, was nerve-wracking to say the least.

"Maker… Be careful. Please…" Cullen sighed, his words trailing into nothingness as Anuira leaned down from the back of Tadwinks to press her lips to his.

"I will and we'll send word as soon as we find anything." she said as she turned Tadwinks and barked the go ahead to the group of volunteers gathered in the courtyard.

~.o.O.o.~

The way to Highever was one and a half days swift ride away, but since the group had no need of their mounts beyond transportation they were driving them hard to gain time. Skipping meals and rest in favor of making good time.

Once they were within sprinting distance of Harper's Ford they left their mounts to a local farmer who also provided information. Highever had gone absurdly quiet and people where acting strange but as far as the farmer knew there were no darkspawn. This was also confirmed by the Wardens who could not sense any activity in the immediate area.  
Under normal circumstances Anuira would have been glad for the news but something in her gut told her this made it worse.

After a short rest and quick meal the group of ten made their way stealthily towards the town. Two of the rouges, a young rouge human male, Essex accompanied by a female dwarf, Filah made their way towards the tavern hoping to gather some information as the rest of the group stayed in range but out of sight. Snooping around Harper's Ford revealed two things and none of them good.

First off, there were actually darkspawn activity happening, but further down along the coast towards Soldiers Peak. The old warden fortress captured and purged by the Hero of Ferelden after the defeat of the Archdemon and the blight.  
Second off, the weirdness happening in Highever had nothing to do with the darkspawn but everything to do with dark magic. Everyone had presumed the venatori's dispersion after the death of Corypheus. It seemed as though they'd all been very wrong.

The venatori cult had gone underground to regroup, changing their name to somnoborium, "Vessels of dreams", they were still very much active and ever the fanatics. Whispers could be heard among the agents that the darkspawn once again was close to finding an old god and they were of course trying to get to it before the darkspawn could corrupt it. They probably planned on trying to bend it's will to their own and then lay all of Thedas under their boot in another reign of Tevinter-tyranny.

Anuira wasted no time sending a crow towards Cullen with the information and asking him to send word to not only Weisshaupt and Denerim but also all other major nations that needed to know in case they were unsuccessful in their mission to halt both Tevinter supremacists and darkspawn.  
Never before in history had they had a chance to stop a blight before it began but how they would go about doing that was a conundrum.

Anuira contacted Dorian through the crystal she was wearing around her neck letting him in on the plans of his fellow countrymen. Of course the furious man insisted on meeting up with them as soon as he was able and made her promise to give him constant reports until he arrived.

"Well, isn't this nostalgic? You and me battling the evil schemes of the Tevinter Imperium for the sake of Thedas!" he exclaimed bitterly. "You'd think they'd learned by now."

Anuira couldn't help but snicker at his snark. Creators she missed him.

"Nuvenan ithas. Sildearan laimem i'tel ma, isa'ma'lin." _(I want/wish/desire to see you. I feel lost without you, brother.)_ she said, a gentle smile gracing her features.

"I'm leaving Nevarra first thing in the morning, da'ean." _(da'ean - little bird)_ Dorian smiled before saying his goodbyes.

The infiltration-group gathered to get a something to eat and plan before springing into action. Time was short.  
First Anuiras group would try to assassinate some key-members of the cult to sow chaos and buying time for the leaders of the nations to act as well as giving Skyholds forces a chance to arrive. They were at best still a four days march from Highever.  
After wreaking havoc they would be moving down the coastline to intercept the darkspawn and hopefully they'd be able to keep them at bay until backup arrived.

Anuria's group successfully crippled the Somnoborium in Harper's Ford, as six identified higher ups and their throng of close guards was mysteriously and viciously killed during the night. The company dared not poison the food or water supplies due to the risk of hurting the innocent villagers but they hoped they'd done enough to cripple the cult until the army of Skyhold arrived.

During the assassinations information was found and quickly relayed to Cullen, that the somnoborium had taken over all of Highever with brutal killings, infiltrations and use of blood-magic to control the Teyrnir's nobles. This was a serious matter that desperately needed to reach the Fereldan monarchs. Hopefully they'd listen and hurry to reclaim their lands, leaving Anuira and her forces to deal with the darkspawn threat.

Now the small company of rouges led by the former Inquisitor, hurried along the coast-line in the fading darkness as the night gave way to morning, searching for a good place to camp before continuing towards Soldiers Peak.

~.o.O.o.~

It took them nearly all day after a few short hours of sleep, to find the small fishing-village now a plundered ruin after a darkspawn raid. Searching the houses briefly, one by one, turned up nothing but mindless chaos and the gruesome display had them all on edge. The two wardens in their midst was the jumpiest, still young to their duty and not having faced off with darkspawn before. The wardens felt the closeness to the darkspawn creeping along their spines, hearing their collective minds screeching in the back of their own, like an itch they couldn't quite reach.

The tunnel the darkspawn had emerged from was found in the cellar of the small chantry on the rock-shore by the jetties.  
Everywhere they looked they found splatters of long since dried blood and the stench of death and decay was mind-numbing. Hardly any bodies were found and the first one they did find made one of the youngest skirmishers retch.

It was the body of a small girl, wearing the remnants of a simple blue dress with a bow in the back. Still clutching her doll in one hand thrown above her blond head, long curls in complete disarray while lying face down in a pool of dried gore. Her small, fragile body wearing the horrific but distinct teeth-marks of something much larger than a rat, flesh missing to the bone in some places and one foot almost gnawed of.

Once the young male scout, Cal, had stopped heaving they continued towards the tunnel leading into the bowels of earth and one step closer to the nightmares inhabiting the area.

Anuira took half the party, including the two wardens, Kaila and Josmael, on a brief scouting mission into the tunnels. They needed to know how far away danger was as well as knowing if the tunnel branched directly into the deeproads or if it was a maze of darkspawn-built tunnels to search first.

The other half put up camp and then proceeded to send the few dead they could find to the maker, creators or ancestors, whatever they believed in, by pyre


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullens on his way, Alistair to and things start to heat up for the rouge-team.

The army of Skyhold was progressing towards Highever faster than Cullen thought possible. He never seized to be amazed by the loyalty Anuira commanded from the people around her. They were sleeping only a bare minimum, eating on the march and thus when day gave way to night after three full days they were already in the region of Highever and only a couple of hours away from Harper's Ford.

Cullen and many with him, was feverishly hoping and praying for Anuira and her group to be ok. Everyone dreaded what would meet them once they marched into town since no one had heard from the rouges for a whole day. Not a word since the night of assassinations and it was eating them all alive, anxiety in the camp was palpable and merriment scarce. Everyone was eating their rations quickly and getting to their restless sleep, impatient to get going.

They'd set up camp for the night in a secluded area, to get their strength back before hitting the town before dawn. Hopefully they would be able to drive back the somnoborium and gain control of the town until the king's army got there. King Alistair had expressed sincere gratitude by letter, they'd received it the second night of their march and it declared that he'd personally be meeting up with Skyholds forces in Harper's Ford.

That was still one and a half day's away.

~.o.O.o.~

The night was blissfully uneventful for Anuiras group. They slept in shifts, tucked into a room on the main floor of the small chantry where the chaos had not reached and the smell was not so foul. One scout was perched on the roof of the chantry, getting a huge overview of their surroundings and one scout was hidden by the wide-open front door hanging off its hinges, so as to catch calls from outside and relay them. The last scout was hidden in the cellar close to the stairs to the main floor, making sure they were not surprised from below by darkspawn.

The morning greeted them with the fog and chilly winds so common to Ferelden, making the already grim view of the village even worse. The wind softly whining through the empty houses, doors and windows creaking as they swayed in the unrelenting winds and everything veiled in fog.

Exploring the tunnels below the previous night, had revealed the none to comforting truth that it did connected straight into the deeproads. That meant the tunnel was not just a digression but intentional and the darkspawn was seldom that intentional outside of a blight.  
They mused that it seemed plausible for the somnoborium to have dug into the deep roads in their greed and hurry to snatch the 'old god' from the grasping fingers of the darkspawn and thus set darkspawn loose on the village, be it intentional of accidental.

The wardens, Josmael, a city elf rouge with proficiency in sabotage and Kaila, a human with a knack for dual-wielding, could both feel the darkspawn activity but they were certain they were further away and moving steadily away or down. It still made the group wary but they couldn't fight both somnoborium and darkspawn at the same time.  
Therefore the rouges took turns scouting around the village in pairs, as one pair came back to the chantry, another one would leave instantly. Constantly watching for the Tevinter supremacists as the rest of the group stayed hidden inside the chantry, keeping an eye on the tunnel.

When the third patrol for the day went out the young human, Cal joked that 'third time was the charm' and he was sure to get some action. They'd all laughed at the impish young man with the obstinate brown hair and eyes like a doe, the laughter draining some of the tension in the group before he set after his dwarven partner.  
Anuira and the seven others had kept up the playful banter while sharing some of the bread and dried meat to fill their empty bellies. Seated in the auditorium by the small podium used for sermons across from the front door they had a clear view of the stairs leading down to the cellar as well as the front door.

They all jumped when they heard the distinct clatter of metal meeting stone right outside the chantry door. Everyone sprang to attension, weapons drawn and ready to strike in a moment's notice. Essex, a seasoned human archer and the elf warden Josmael got to the door in a few strides. Essex took place beside the door, bow drawn as Josmael glanced outside. The elf started as his eyes locked onto something the others could not see. He moved fast outside grabbing a hand reaching up, pulling and helping the bloodied mess inside.

"Cal!" Anuira shouted from her perch on one of the benches as she lurched forward. In a flash she was by the young human's side, soothing, looking over injuries and trying to decipher his gurgled speech. She managed to make out that the scouts had gotten surprised by a small group of somnoborium-agents and Ferina, his dwarven partner had ordered him to return and warn everyone when he'd gotten injured. On his way back he'd met another group and almost hadn't made it.

Essex didn't waste any time with setting up defenses while Anuira was busy with Cal, he ordered the human archer Eliza and dwarven assassin Kard, to guard the door while he took their third archer, an elven woman named Valyva with him to the roof. The two women, Filah a dwarf and Kaila a human, settled by the windows in the back of the chantry making sure no one came through there to flank them.

"They're coming!" Ferina cried as she came hurdling in the door looking wild-eyed and out of breath. She was flecked with blood, twitching with adrenalin and her eyes darted around endlessly. "The somnoborium, and ancestors help us they have an army!"

"How much time do we have?" Anuira demanded as she snapped into focus-mode, the one where she became all logic and calculations, devoid of emotions and utterly ruthless.

"Not long." the dwarf whispered horrified.

"Kard! Get Essex and Valyva down here, now!" Anuria barked at the male dwarf guarding the door, still holding the injured Cal in her arm. She'd managed to steady him but he was in no position to move, let alone fight.

"Kaila, move Cal to the cellars and stay with him! And make sure to feel for darkspawn!" the female warden responded instantly to Anuiras orders.

This was not going to be pretty and their only way out of this may be to hide in the deep roads until the Skyhold forces arrived. And creators have mercy that was two days from now! The arrival of Kard with Essex and Valyva in a tow snapped Anuira out of her thoughts and they all listened intently as she laid out their battleplan.

The chantry itself was surrounded by a huge brick wall with only a small gateway aligned with the door to the chantry itself. They had to trust to hope that the enemy would not try to scale the wall as a first resort. Funneling their enemy for as long as possible through that narrow archway, meeting them head on in the small chantry garden with every roguish trick in the book while the archers reigned death on their enemies from the roof was their only hope at holding out even a little.

It would only work so long, this they knew. Their enemy was not stupid and either the rouges ground forces would be overcome or the somnoborium would try to flank them by climbing the walls and dropping in behind them.

The archers was tasked with letting the ground-team know when their enemy started scaling the walls. On their signal they would all drop every smoke-grenade they had and pull back to the chantry cellar. From there they could probably hold out a little longer as the narrow stairs was the only passage down making it possible to funnel their enemy once again.  
They would take turns to fight in groups of four, archers in the back melees in the front and those not fighting would rest and hide in the darkspawn-tunnel. One warden would always be with Cal to make sure no darkspawn was close to finding them and hopefully they would stay undetected when they eventually had to flee into darkspawn territory.

Anuira had no false hope of holding their ground until backup arrived, holding off an army with only nine rouges for two whole days was a fool's errand. But she was determined not to let the Tevinter fanatics get to where they wanted to be and in the process she would be leaving a distinct trail for Cullen to follow. And maybe if they were lucky they could pit the darkspawn against the somnoborium.

They all got to work, moving their things into a well-hidden nook in the deep roads near the tunnel. Kaila moved Cal there as the rest of the rouges gathered up all the supplies they needed for the fight before leaving the two to fend for themselves for a while.

Essex, Valyva and Eliza made their way to the roof and prepared their escape route, a rope hanging down to the main floor of the chantry through a trapdoor not far from the podium in the auditorium. Being the group's articifiers they also prepared traps that the others littered the ground around the gate with. It was sure to make at least a few enemy soldiers drop before getting to close.

Kard and Josmael, the groups sabotage specialists, prepared as many caltrops they could along with poisons for everyone's weapons and added poisonclouds to many of the traps made by the roof-team. Filah, being a tempest, made flasks of frost, fire and lightning to coat herself in and made sure the team had as many grenades and elixirs she could muster with their supplies.

Ferina and Anuira helped wherever they could seeing as they both were subterfuge assassins and had no proficiency for trap-making or poisons other than sleeping-powders. Anuira silently wished she had her left arm back so she could dual-wield again, that would have made the odds of this endeavor so much better. She really missed being able to dash to and fro in a battle with her two dualblade-dragonbone daggers and wreak havoc in her wake. But now she would have to rely on her subterfuge and one dual-bladed dagger to get the job done. _"Fenedhis lasa!" (Approx. go suck wolf dick)_ she thought angrily.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with Dorian and Cullen arrives.

Dorian couldn't sleep. His ride to Kirkwall had been both fast and uneventful but getting a ship to take him to Harper's Ford was proving harder than he'd expected. To his chagrin he would have to wait until morning.  
Now he was laying in his bed in the Hanged Man and trying his damndest to deny the fact that his best friend and sister in all but name, was alone against maker knows what and it drove him nuts.  
Anuiras reassurance during their talk earlier that evening was not helping to calm his nerves in the least. He knew all too well that the infuriating elf could be knee deep in quicksand, surrounded by hordes of ogres and emissaries and she would still insist she had things under control.

He'd been rolling around trying to sleep for hours when he couldn't take it any longer. Throwing his cowers off, he slung on his robes and sauntered down the stairs to have a drink at the bar. Hopefully that would calm his nerves enough to let him sleep.  
Busy in his grumbling he almost jumped out of his skin when a familiar voice roared over the still busy tavern.

"Well I'll be a nugs uncle, sparkler!" Varric shouted, obviously rather well beyond the point of intoxicated. Dorian spun on his heel, darting his gaze around the room of the tavern to find the source of the voice. When he couldn't find the blasted dwarf he was beginning to think he was hallucinating from worrying too much.

"Get your ass up here!" Varric shouted again and the mage's head snapped upwards to see the annoyingly carefree dwarf raising a pint of beer at him from the second floor, grinning like a fool.

"Should you really be here slumming about when you have a city to run? Or did they finally kick you out?" Dorian retorted as he went back up the stair and into Varric's little self-proclaimed hidey-hole.

Dorian listened halfheartedly as Varric complained about his duties as Viscount, his annoyance with the merchant's guild and how the Seneschal had made it his life's duty to eradicate anything fun and exciting out of the dwarf's life. He got to learn a lot about how the city got turned into the major trading port it now was and how relations with the local elven-tribes had become almost friendly with the help of Hawke and Merrill. Both was very much alive, living with Merrill's clan and had even managed to get a kid who Varric spoiled rotten.

Well into Dorians forth glass of wine, Varric suddenly stopped talking and a moment of quiet hovered around them as he seemed to appraise the surly mage. The dwarf visably sobered up, his features went serious as he put the pint on the table and turned his attention to Dorian.

"So, why are you here?" Varric asked in a low dead-serious voice, eyeing Dorian with interest. The mage sighed heavily where he sat frowning, trying to see the bottom of his glass but he did not answer.

"Andraste's tits!" Varric exclaimed quietly in annoyed concern. "What has our beloved little elf gotten herself into this time?"

"Oh you know, the usual. Tevinter extremists, darkspawn hordes and impending doom for all of Thedas…" Dorian snarked but the usually razor-sharp arrogance wasn't there and Varric could tell he was worried.

"How bad is it?"

"I don't know! I'm not there as you can perfectly well see!" Dorian spat before chugging his wine, waving at the passing waitress for a refill.

"I'm sorry. I'm a bit lacking in sleep and it's making me testy." he continued before Varric had a chance to speak again.

"Long story short. She went to stop an invasion of Tevinter extremists **and** an impending blight with the help of two wardens and seven rouges because she couldn't wait for the leaders of the nation to get off their asses." Dorian said with a sigh, never lifting his eyes from his glass.

"Maferats balls…" Varric visably deflated, flopping back in his seat with a horrified expression.

"Cullen's marching Skyholds army there but that takes time, and thus she's on her own until they arrive. Knowing my countrymen… not to mention the horrors being the darkspawn… Well let's just say I'm more than a little worried." Dorian concluded steeling a glance at the dispirited dwarf sitting to the right of him. None of them said anything for a long while as they lost themselves in their own brooding.

"I thought Skyhold didn't have an army?" the dwarf inquired, breaking the pregnant silence with morbid curiously, still wearing an expression of concern and worry.

"They officially don't but you know as well as I, the loyalty our dear elf commands. The people living around Skyhold gathered up in a moment's notice when she asked them to." the pride in the mage's voice was unmistakable and it started them on the way to reminiscence. When the stories died and the world tilted ever so slightly Varric lifted his pint over his head and looked seriously at Dorian.

"Well, sparkler. Whatever help I can offer, is yours!" He stated before downing his pint in a few gulps. Dorian gladly accepted, downed the last of his wine and got up to leave. Varric stopped him and asked him to meet up at the docks to arrange transportation on the fastest ship available in the morning. With the time and place decided they bid each other god night and went their separate ways.

~.o.O.o.~

The sail across the Waking Seas was uneventful save from the harsh weather and grumpy crewmen. But arriving in Harper's Ford in the evening was more than a little unnerving, seeing as it was now controlled by the very people Dorian was trying to outmaneuver in Tevinter.

To keep from being detected he was clad in a hooded cloak, far beneath his usual standards and of common Fereldan design instead of the flashy and much telling Tevinter style.

The weather was the perfect excuse to pull it tightly around himself to hide as he set of almost immediately towards the last known location of Anuira.  
Not a single peep had been heard from her since the night in Kirkwall and whenever he tried to hail her he was met with static and silence. It made his shoulderblades itch!  
Something was terribly wrong, he could feel it, deep in his bones as well as in his gut but he could only hope he would not be too late.

Where was that blighted Spirit of Compassion when you needed him?!

~.o.O.o.~

The scene meeting them was absurdly normal. So much so that many of the soldiers where jumping out of their skin at every small sound, expecting something horrible to appear in a seconds notice.  
The occupation of Harper's Ford was not apparent if one didn't know what to look for. The skittish eyes of the locals was one very telling sign, the hushed voices and quickly shutting doors and windows in their wake was another.

Skyholds army marched promptly into Harper's Ford, meeting no resistance what so ever. Until they knocked on the doors to the mayors house.  
Cullen announced the arrival of Skyholds forces, demanded the surrender of the occupants of Harper's Ford and nearly got his head torn off by a fireball in a very rude reply.  
Civilians could be heard screaming from everywhere around town as enemies began pouring at them from every direction.

The ambush didn't quite work as intended though as Cullen was no fool in battle and had planned for an ambush. Two thirds of the army was lying in wait around town in an ambush of their own.  
When the battle started they flanked every group of enemies with deadly efficiency as Cullen and a handful of troops forced the door to the mayor's house. The battle was over almost as fast as it began and the high-ranking somnoborium agent from the mayor's house was apprehended, injured and unconscious but alive.

Cullen should fell happy that it all went smoothly and with so few injured and dead. But instead a sense of intense dread was pooling in the pit of his gut. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was all way too easy.  
Sure the major stronghold of the cult was probably in Castle Cousland a few hours down the coast westwards but he had a hard time believing this was the entirety of the occupation.

Had Anuira and her group really crippled the Tevinter cultists this much?

The soldiers searched the houses of the town, gently, on orders from Cullen. Trying as much as possible to not inconvenience or scare the civilians who had probably seen and been through enough to last them a lifetime already. Here and there they came across hidden agents, some tried taking hostages and others just outright fled. Most of them where caught and there was thankfully not many injured among the civilians when the search was over.

People pooled around the mayor's house where Cullen was collecting reports from his men. The Commander took the opportunity to tell everyone gathering that they were only there to help and would leave once the Kings army relieved them and their business was concluded.  
The mayor was dead, brutally murdered in his own bed, but his son stepped forward when Cullen asked who was in charge. The letter from the King was given to the young man who read it aloud for the townspeople, who all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Are you looking for the Inquisitor?" a woman piped up from somewhere in the crowd.

"Indeed we are." Cullen replied, scanning the crowd for the source of the voice without luck.

"She and a group of others went eastwards a couple of day's ago." the same voice said and Cullens eye's caught the sight of a young girl. She had a slight gash across her right clavicle, another thinner one across her throat. Her bare skin dirtied, dark hair framed her delicate yet still slightly immature face and her teary eyes shone with fierce anger and determination as she clasped her torn dress to her body. The commander winced at the sight of girl, barely of age, as he could all too well imagine the story behind her appearance.

Signaling one of his soldiers to follow he stepped down from the mayors porch and made his way to the girl. As he thanked her for the information he draped his huge cloak around her petite frame before asking that the female soldier beside him take care of her.

"Anyone not following me eastwards will stay here, helping and guarding the town!" he proclaimed as the crowd hummed with gratifications.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the timelines between Anuira and her friends, Dorian and Cullen are finaly starting to align.

The tension among the rouges was palpable as they stood ready, waiting in the shadows around the archway in the chantry-wall. Despite the chilly weather, Anuira felt a drop of sweat run down the nape of her neck, making her shiver involuntarily.  
She looked from friend to friend, observing and catching their eyes, making sure they were ready. Everyone wore expressions of grim determination and she noticed she was not the only one suffering from the pre-battle adrenalinboost that made her muscles coil around her bones and her pulse quicken.

It felt as if an eternity passed before they could finally hear the sound of marching feet approaching their hideout. And as the first blood-curdling screams erupted across the field, Anuira could not help but smirk. Explosions raining fire, spikes and poison on the advancing somnoborium was music to the rouges ears.

Enemy soldiers caught in the blast of the first traps was panicking, running about flailing and screaming in agony, tripping more traps or shoving their fleeing allies onto them. Everywhere soldiers were scrambling to get away from others who was set on fire, riddled with spikes or surrounded by clouds of poison. The chaos was creeping through the ranks like wildfire and they were forced to begin fighting and killing their own to keep from being wiped out. The formerly neat front ranks of the somnoborium was broken into a flurry of screaming turmoil as they descended upon the chantry.

Holding the archway was indeed as much of a challenge as Anuira had thought. Kard had gotten stabbed almost immediately and had sloppily bandaged his right arm before returning to fight tooth and nail with his left hand instead. Josmael had gotten a nasty blow to the head and was bleeding profusely from his leftside temple.  
Valyva had taken an arrow to her side, thankfully it was not poisoned and had missed everything vital. Eliza was sporting a large burn from a fireball on her right thigh and the two female dwarves, Filah and Ferina was both cowered in small gashes and bruises.  
Essex had gotten a throwing-dagger imbedded in his right shoulder which he had quickly returned to the owners face and Anuira herself had gotten a nasty bash in the back by a huge maze making her wince at almost every move.

She was wondering how much longer they could keep up. It was becoming hard to fight among all the corpses and they all needed some time to recuperate. An arrow swooshed by her face lodging in someone behind her whom let out a gurgling wet gasp of a sound before slumping down. She thanked the creators for their outstanding archers, without them they'd all be dead ten times over.

Not a second later she heard Essex horn boom out and smoke started erupting around the chantry garden. Smoke-grenades was all but hailing through the air and Anuira quickly launched one of her own as she retreated, then another and a third and so on. Keeping herself hidden inside the multiple clouds, she made her way down the cellar.  
They got a moments respite as the enemy regrouped. Which they used it to slap poultices on their wounds, slam down some potions to help speed the healing and plan battleformations.  
Before long they could hear the sound of people screaming again as the enemy soldiers once again had to charge over a traplittered area. Anuira, flanked by Josmael and Filah and tailed by Essex got ready for the first wave of enemies.

The battle was brutal and seemed to stretch out for eons beyond counting. Anuira was on her fifth, wave together with her team. Essex and Josmael was getting paler by the second, Filah was limping badly due to a nasty legwound and Anuira was wheezing and coughing blood from what she guessed was a punctured lung. Every move she made was torture and she couldn't imagine her friends faring any better.

As her team once again was relieved by Kard's, she winced at the sight of them. Kard was as pale as Essex and Josmael and his injured arm hung awkwardly against his side, dripping with blood. Ferina had extensive burns along her right side and Valyva's frosturnt hands and arms was looking agonizingly painful. Eliza was barely able to stop from doubling over as she had managed to catch an arrow to the lower left abdomen.

The only thing still keeping the rouges upright was sheer stubbornness, adrenalin, and potions. Not to mention luck.

Their enemies' bodies was sprawled around the room and fighting had turned into a slippery hazardous mess with all the blood and dead flesh littering the floor and stairs.

How long had they been fighting? It felt like days.

Closing her eyes, sighing she resigned herself to signal the final retreat into the darkspawn tunnels. There they'd have to rely on the wardens to guide them and that was why they had kept Kaila, the human warden, away from the fight. She'd have to lead the brunt of the flight down the tunnels.

She poked her head out of the tunnel to sound the retreat but the words stuck in her throat as she had to scramble to catch a falling Eliza. She heard Kard's panicked voice boom out a retreat and barely had time to react before a massive explosion shook their entire world violently. The walls of the tunnel started cracking and crumbling, the floor gave away and within seconds she was no longer in the waking world.

~.o.O.o.~

"Venhedis!" _(Approx. the void/ to the void with you)_ Dorian swore to himself where he stood hiding like a common thief in the darkness of a half ruined building on the edge of a clearing littered with dead bodies. Even though it was almost nighttime he couldn't get closer to the archway without being detected. The torches were few but well placed and would reveal him without a doubt unless he chanced a sprint across the clearing. He'd rather not since he liked living.

From a distance he could see soldiers lugging crates and sacks through the archway to what appeared to be a chantry. The dead carelessly thrown on top of each other on either side of the it, to make passage easier no doubt and Dorian sent up a silent prayer that Anuira was not among them. Sneaking from cover to cover towards the back of the chantry he overheard some of the soldiers admiring their enemy.

It seemed as Anuira and her team had actually held off the army for the entire day and was currently holed up in the cellar of the chantry. They were still fighting like demons but getting tired and was badly injured according to the soldiers. A desperate need to get to Anuiras side bubbled inside of him as he searched the chantry's back wall for any type of entrance.

"Kaffas!" _(Shit!)_ Dorian cursed angrily under his breath as he found and grabbed a rope left by his countrymen, starting to scale the wall awkwardly. "Festis bei umo canavarum." _(You'll be the death of me.)_

Dorian had only gotten half way up when he heard the soldiers sound their retreat. Hope flared in his chest as he briefly imagined his friend overcoming the impossible yet again. Could she have done it? Driven a small army back with and only the help of nine rouges?  
Before the thought had time to root itself he heard an earsplitting rumble and the ground shook violently. Dorian lost his grip as the wall started crumbling and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

It took several minutes before Dorian could get up from the ground. He was just sitting there in shock and utter horror, looking at the remains of the chantry and its wall. To his small fortune his body was shielded from the eyes of the remaining army by a still standing portion of the wall.

They had blown her up. His best friend, his sister…

He felt himself shy away from the thoughts. Clinging to some absurd fragment of hope that she was somehow still alive.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Dorian meets up. But where is Lavellan?

Almost three fourths of the army insisted on following Cullen as he left eastwards to find the former Inquisitor. And they were almost upon the small village rumored to have been hit by darkspawn when they stumbled across a large group of injured somnoborium soldiers. The sight of them made everyone's stomach jolt in both hope and dread.  
Injured soldiers could mean a great deal of things but instead of speculating Cullen ordered the army forward slowly and as stealthily as possible. Using the shallow forest and setting suns long shadows to their advantage as they inched closer.

Every step closer made it more and more evident that the enemy was celebrating a victory. One soldier could be heard almost reverently telling the others how the small group of rouges had fought like possessed until the very end. Another was bragging heartily about lighting the fuse that blew the blighted inquisitor to the void, earning him loud chuckles and merry laughs from his comrades.

Little did they know that their words was pouring fuel on an already wild fire and before anyone really was aware of what was happening or who gave the order, the majority of the Skyhold force was descending upon their enemies with a vengeance.  
Fiery hot anger was raging among Cullen's troops, making them fight with brutal ferocity and savagery. The somnoborium soldiers scrambled to fight back but was overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught of blades, arrows and magic coming from Skyholds army. And before long the few enemies still alive was huddled together in a pile, surrounded by a horde of frenzied soldiers with murder in their eyes, itching to finish the job.

"She's gone!" a mage spat, managing an arrogant grin even though he was bleeding extensively from his clearly broken nose. "We buried that wretched elf and her friends under that pathetic excuse of a chantry!"  
Cullen's fist connected hard with the mage's jaw, sending him flying back into the ground with a heavy 'thunk'. Many of the Skyhold soldiers grinned with cold malice at the display, inching ever so slightly closer, looming over their prisoners.

"Don't leave any survivors!" Cullen growled menacingly, still glaring at the mage whose eyes widened as it dawned on him that there would be no mercy to be found here. No one wanted or needed prisoners and the mage felt he should probably be grateful if death found him swiftly.

Cullen turned on his heal and left the battlefield behind, sprinting towards the village with only the company of a gut-wrenching dread. A fear that with every step grew stronger until it made him want to double over and puke.  
He stopped cold as he came upon a field, cluttered with mutilated bodies and tell-tale signs of rouge traps. The sight of the brutal carnage made shivers go down his spine and reminded him of why he never underestimated rogues. They may be week in armor, but they more than made up for it in terms of ruthlessness and ingenious ways of killing.  
The sheer number of dead scattered through the area was morbidly awe-inspiring since it was most certainly the work of the small ten-man group of rouges that left Skyhold four days ago.

Ten men, against at least two hundred…

In the fading daylight the gaze of the ex-templar wandered over the field to what was left of the small chantry. A strangled whisper escaped his lips as his mind registered the ruin.

"No…."

~.o.O.o.~

When Dorian finally came to his senses enough to move, he scrambled backwards to one of the houses at the docks to hide. His reeling mind still trying to comprehend what had just transpired as his body trembled in a mix of panic and adrenaline making him almost throw up his meager breakfast.  
Dorian wanted nothing more than to kill every single one of his countrymen, preferably very painfully. But even with the strongest blood magic he theoretically knew, he would not be able to overcome them all and had no choice but to wait for them to leave.

Waiting was a nerve-wracking torment as there was nothing he could do to stop his brain from showing him every possible scenario of his best friend death. Pulling out his crystal he tried desperately to hail Anuira for a while and when it became painfully evident it was a waste of time he actually started praying. Praying for her to have somehow survived, praying he would be able to find her amongst all the rubble and lastly he prayed for the blighted somnoborium to leave so he could do something useful.  
Every second he was not digging through rubble was a second closer to her death being absolute.

After what felt like years for the anxious, guilt-ridden mage, what was left of the enemy force marched out of the ruined village. Dorian hurriedly made his way to the ruins of the chantry, wasting no time getting to work. He cleared and moved rubble tirelessly, until his mana was thoroughly drained and his fingers was raw and bleeding. Dorian was cursing furiously when his body shut down, refusing to move and forced him to take a break. As soon as he was able, he got up and willed his body to start working again.

He didn't think, he didn't let himself feel or even react. He only focused on the next slab of rock and pebbles needing to be removed from his best friends body.

~.o.O.o.~

As Cullen moved closer to the former chantry he could hear someone cursing in tevene. Since the darkness of night was steadily descending on the world, making it hard to see, he drew his sword as he moved closer to the sound. He nearly tripped as his foot caught on the first in a row of bodies neatly laid out, side by side, eyes closed and hands clasped together over their chests. Even in the damp light he could make out the battlehardened features of Kard who lay closest and Cullens heart all but stopped as he looked over to the other two bodies. Rowdy Ferina lay beside Kard and then, an elven woman, hard to mistake due to the impossibly slender build.

A fireball passed inches from his head, drawing Cullen out of his horrified thoughts as a figure moved towards him. Two more fireballs at the ready in the palms of the attackers bleeding hands. The light illuminated the ragged face of a mage Cullen knew very well.

"Dorian?" he choked out as Dorian halted at the sight of his best friend's husband to be and lit up a few torches around them with a flick of his wrists. Cullen winced at the sight of the mage. His clothes was torn and sullied, his usually impeccable hair in complete disarray and his well-manicured hands bruised and bloodied. The mage's face was horribly twisted in a mask of ill-concealed pain and sorrow.

"Anuira?" Cullen managed in a strangled, pleading voice, looking over towards the elven body. Dorian shook his head but said nothing, keeping his eyes steadily on the ground. Moments later he dejectedly went back to clearing rubble leaving the ex-templar to his own thoughts.

It didn't take long for Cullen to join in the mages seemingly hopeless quest. And that was how the soldiers of Skyhold found them. Monotonously moving rubble in the light of the torches around the former chantry.

Hoping against hope.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to inky you wonder? She's not alone...

Jumping upright she nearly head-butted the hooded figure sitting next to her, gently shaking her awake. On sheer instinct she rolled to the side, hands drawing her daggers as she landed on her feet in a crouching stance, ready to strike out at anything daring to approach her. The blood in her veins was pounding in her ears and the adrenaline made her body twitch as her eyes darted wildly about looking for enemies. She found none, except for the seemingly harmless hooded figure still seated where she a few moments ago had been laying.

She shook her dazed head without removing her eyes from the figure. Slowly the reality of her surroundings dawned on her and she started to relax as she understood she was no longer on the battlefield.  
Her eyes went to her left arm holding one of her long dualbladed dragonbone daggers. She flexed her fingers around the grip, reveling in the feeling of being whole. The fade was a wonderful thing and she could not fathom why so many feared it. It was no more dangerous than the physical plane where you could get stabbed for looking at someone wrong. At least in the fade you knew most of the rules from the start.

"How are you feeling?" Anuira started at the sound of a silvery and distinct male voice, snapping her head to the hooded figure she had all but forgotten in her confusion. She stared unseeingly at him for a moment as her thoughts ran away with her again.

She tried to get her head around what had landed her here in the fade. There'd been a battlefield, a fight and a particularly horrible one at that. She could feel her mind almost shy away from the thoughts and forced herself to remember.  
The letter brought by a dying messenger. Her swift ride to Harper's Ford and assassination of key cult-members. Finding a fishing-town in shambles, the darkspawn tunnel and that poor little girl in the blue dress. The scramble to set up traps and getting overrun by somnoborium.  
Pain. Anger. Determination. The earthquake… no explosion, cracking walls and then falling.

She realized she must have been thrown into the fade when becoming unconscious. But if she was in the fade, conscious and self-aware as she seemed to be, then her physical body was still drawing breath.

There was still hope!

Flinching a little she turned her attention to the hooded male as he cocked his head at her, clearing his throat. She fired of a bright but shy smile at him.

"Thank you, I'm feeling a bit of everything right now and it's very confusing. But all in all, I think I'm fine." she answered politely, still getting distracted by her own thoughts as she tried to process every memory and feeling rushing back into her mind like a herd of stampeding druffalo.  
The giddy feeling of realizing she was still physically alive dampened severely as she remembered she didn't know if her friends had pulled through. Kard, Valyva and Ferina probably hadn't, since they were still in the cellar when the explosion hit. Had Cal made it? Essex? Filah, Kaila or Josmael? The biting sting of sorrow and uncertainty griped her heart, making her face contort in a bitter frown as her eyes slid closed while she desperately worked through the raw pain.

"Thank you…" she whispered unflinching when she felt a hand on her shoulder, opening her eyes once again and turning her rueful eyes at the figure with a tired smile.

"You are a strange one." the silvery male voice said as his hand slid away from Anuiras shoulder to hang by his side again.

"Oh? How so?" she retorted, honestly surprised.

"Many reasons." the male stated cocking his concealed hooded head at her once again.

"Care to share?" Anuira snickered slightly despite her sorrow.

"For one, you are not afraid of me nor of any spirits I've seen you meet. This is a rare thing even among mages and you are none of the sort." he stated as much as asked.

"There is no more danger here than there is in the physical world, regardless of being a mage or not." Anuira stated with a warm smile and the hooded male nodded weakly in acceptance of her answer.

"Second, you are not a mage, yet you are able to retain awareness here. And I have seen the spirits you harbor, felt their devotion…" the figure trailed of as if not knowing how to formulate his thoughts.

"That's a more complicated story. I'm not a mage by birth. That is true. But I was made one by accident and I also merged with a well of knowledge in an ancient elven temple. The mark of magic was taken from me along with my left arm but the well's spirits remain." she summarized.

"Vir Abelasan!" the hooded male whispered in surprise and as if summoned, the spirits of the well started billowing around Anuira. It seemed almost as if they were groveling in front of the hooded figure as they whispered to her about ancient beings.

"You know of the Vir Abelasan? Then you know of Mythal as well?" Anuira inquired.

"Vin da'lan, eolasan vir abelasan i Mythal." _(Yes young one, I know of Vir Abelasan and Mythal.)_ the hooded man answered as he reached up to let the cowl fall back revealing a stunning elven face with brilliant emerald eyes. His features without the typical vallaslin and framed by light blond hair, two braids starting from his temples and fastened at the back of his head.

Anuira eyes widened slightly in surprise to this revelation and she could feel the millions of questions that was already forming in her mind. This was something knew and unknown, since spirits usually looked strange or even horrifying to mortals or took the form of something the mortals knew.  
She did not know this elven man and being true to herself she could feel that giddy feeling of curiosity bubbling up from the pit of her soul.  
A grin spread on her face and her eyes sparkled like the waters of Rialto Bay on a hot summer's day. The childish interest was plain as day as Anuiras eyes thoroughly inspected the elf in front of her.

She was brought out of her eagerness as the man squirmed slightly, cocking an eyebrow at her in a silent question. Anuira straightened, flushing slightly.

"Sorry. Spirits, magic and the fade always fascinates me and you… well you are not following the rules I thought I knew." she said apologetically, meeting his impossibly green eyes with her own turquoise.

"I am not… following the rules?" the elf said incredulous as his lips quirked ever so slightly into the faintest of smiles while his eyes sparkled with mirth. Apologizing once more Anuira settled into an explanation of what she had been taught about spirits, magic and the fade. She left out names and details and the elven man 'hummed', nodded and 'ah-d' through it all. The amused look never leaving his face until Anuiras expression of excitement changed to that of agony.

Anuira felt the familiar pull of her physical body and curled in on herself as the pain from the battle started to come back. Her arms went around herself in a vain attempt of holding herself together where she stood.  
Her left arm dissolved quickly, only leaving that dull ache that never faded. Tendrils of fire and ice was snaking their way through every single part of her body making her involuntarily shiver and she could feel every gash reappear, every bruise, making it very hard not to scream.  
Breathing became progressively harder until she was coughing blood, wheezing, desperately trying to get enough air into her lungs.

Right before she was slung back to her body she looked up at the horrified elf and smiled slightly through the pain. She didn't want those graceful and beautiful features to wear such distressed expressions. Trying to sooth him, she reached out to touch his hand frozen mid-gesture in the air in front of him.

"I'll be fine…" she managed to whisper as she was flung back into the pitch black abyss of torment and pain.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excavating the chantry and deep roads. Angst.

How long had they been digging for? Cullen wasn't sure anymore. He knew that Skyholds army had found them knee-deep in rubble the previous night. Dorian on the verge of collapse from the strain he'd put himself through, even from before Cullen had showed up. And the ex-templar had been about ready to keel over himself from lack of both sleep and food. Some of the men had tried to gently persuade the two grief-stricken men to rest or at least eat, but neither Cullen nor Dorian was hearing it.

Dorian had lost consciousness sometime during dawn and Cullen had just barely caught him before he tumbled head long down the excavated chantry cellar. Reluctantly he had then accepted the offer of food and rest from his men and hadn't argued when they helped him and the unconscious mage to the campfire.  
The food tasted like ash in his mouth and he had to swallow it with several gulps of water to get it down. But the small amount of food and water at least made some strength return to his mangled body.

Cullen tried to sleep but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was death. His mind was spinning with images of the bodies they had uncovered not to mention all the possible death-scenarios of his loved one.  
Giving up on sleep he turned to tend to the broken and still unconscious mage beside him instead.  
Their wounds had already been dressed by the skilled hands of the healers but like Cullen, Dorian had nightmares and it didn't take long before the mage jolted upright. He was gasping for air with horror plastered across his face as he reached out through the air before realizing his surroundings.

After coaxing some food into Dorian they both just sat there, staring into the fire until they couldn't take it any longer. Neither wanted to talk so instead they returned to clearing rubble. It was punishing work but at least it helped keep their minds of less pleasant things. And maybe if they worked themselves into a stupor, they'd at least be able to get some semblance of sleep before being awoken by cruel nightmares.

Alistair cleared his throat where he stood looking expectantly at Cullen, still waiting for the answer to his question. The ex-templar, who stood looking promptly to the ground with unseeing eyes as he relived the last couple of hellish days, looked up at the King. Confusion clear on his face since Cullen had all but forgotten the man was even there. It took a few moments of staring, grasping at fleeing thoughts of knowledge before the world assembled itself again.

"Right, sorry… uhm… How long have we been searching?" Cullen tried very hard to count the blur of hours into days on his fingers before concluding with a heavy sigh.

"Nearly 2 days."

"And still no sign of the Inqui… eh I mean… miss Lavellan?"

"No." the sound of Cullen's voice was rough and strangled as he looked to the ground with a pained expression.

"If it's any consolation I cannot feel any darkspawn activity in the area. If she's alive..." Alistair broke off, looking over to the chantry, eyeing it like he was itching to dive head first into the rubble and help. But instead he closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted the urge. "Any word from Weisshaupt? Orzammar?"

"No." Cullen sighed. "Not a single word since we got wind of this whole mess."

"This does not bode well." Alistair muttered, sinking deep into his own thoughts before excusing himself to go speak with his officers.  
There was a million things that needed attention as the help from every Bann, Arl and Teyrnir in Ferelden would soon be arriving in Harper's Ford and with that, started the recapture of Highever and Castle Cousland. Alistair needed to get back to Harper's Ford but he left a small company of men behind to help and left with the promise of keeping in touch.

Then there was the disturbing news concerning the wardens and a few runner was sent to Weisshaupt to appraise the situation. They would likely not be back for weeks but they could send birds with their rapports at least. To let everyone know what in the blazes was going on over there.  
Orzammar was probably still infighting due to the rule of Bhelen and a message could easily get lost in the heat of strife but a runner was sent there none the less.

Cullen had followed the Kings retreat with his dejected gaze until the shadows engulfed him completely. Then he crumbled down into sitting heap, hiding his head in his arms as he resisted the urge to break down into a wailing, sobbing mess. But he couldn't help the few tears that escapes his tightly pinched eyes as the cold claws of despair and hopelessness sunk deep into his soul.

~.o.O.o.~

They had been at it for days. Seven days had come and gone since Anuira and her fellow rouges was buried underneath the chantry. Seven days of digging and searching, and still they had nothing.

Dorian had found Valyva, Kard and Ferina the first night and the third night they had found Essex, Filah and Josmael. When they dug in to the collapsed deep roads on the fifth day, they had found Cal and Kaila along with everyone's things.  
Cullen had sent a small team in each direction of the deep roads as soon as it was clear enough to get through and it didn't take them long to uncovered Eliza's crippled body. Lying next to a partly crumbled dead end darkspawn-tunnel with one hand still clutching the arrow in her lower abdomen.

They searched high and low, for as far as they dared in the deep roads but found nothing more. No trails, no clues, no nothing. It was as if Anuira had been swallowed by the earth itself.

Cullen resign himself to the idea that she was gone and ordered the search to stop. Dorian argued with him, saying he gave up to soon and they should try searching further into the deep roads. But Cullen held firm and when the mage gave up trying to persuade him, he ordered his Lieutenants to care for the troops before locking himself as best he could, in his tent.

He didn't know what to do. Hope still lingered in his heart, against all logic, but the despair was overwhelming. Could she still be alive? Or had she died alone and broken in the depth of the deep roads?

He sat there on his bedroll, crushed and devastated. Supporting his head with one hand buried in his blond hair and arm propped on his bent knee as he felt tears run down his pained face.  
It felt as if someone had ripped his soul from his very being, leaving behind a fragmented void of hurt and torment and he wasn't sure he would survive this.

When the morning came Dorian was nowhere to be found. Gone, leaving only a note saying

_"_ _Going back to Tevinter.  
There's nothing for me here now._

_/ Dorian Pavus"_


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan, alone in despair, having weird dreams.

Everything hurt. Not a single piece of her body was unharmed from the fall and it was dark. Her eyes had adjusted as best they could to darkness when she had been unconscious but it was still hard to see anything further than a few feet. Every breath she took sounded horrible, wet and ragged, not to mention it felt like being jabbed with a knife in her back.  
Trying to sit up was a whole new level of agony but she managed after gulping down the last of her healing potions that thankfully had survived the fall. She broke out in a cold sweat and she saw a dizzying amount of white spots dance in front of her eyes as she waited for the worst of the pain to subside.

She felt around as much as she could, finding nothing more than her blades, a crushed vial of something and Eliza's bow. Eliza?! Where was she? And the others? Anuira desperately tried to get her soggy mind to work right, to remember everything up until her fall. The ground had crumbled apart around her as she caught Eliza falling from above. Kard's voice had boomed out a retreat before she had the chance to and then she was falling through the cracks in the ground. She had pushed the barely conscious Eliza down the tunnel with as much force as she could muster to save her from what Anuira was sure, a secure death. Then there had been a sharp pain to her head.

Next thing she knew she was being gently shaken to awareness in the fade.

Anuiras hand went up to her head, more specifically that throbbing area in the back as well as her left side. As she suspected she had gashes there and if the clumping of her hair was anything to go by, they had bled. She wondered how long she'd been unconscious for as she drank some of the water in her survival kit she always carried with her.  
Appraising her injuries she found none of them to be as serious as the internal injury from that ridiculously huge mace in the first battle but some of them needed attention so they wouldn't reopen when she moved.

She popped some dried berries and meat from her stash, in her mouth and started removing her upper armor. The undertunic she wore was probably filthy with blood, sweat and dirt but it was all she had and she ripped it to strips before bandaging what wounds she could.  
Going without undertunic in her armor, with only her breast band to shield her from the rough hardened leather and metal, was nothing if not uncomfortable. But her wounds needed dressing more than she needed to be comfortable and so she begrudgingly put the armor back on.

Once she was done she laid on the ground again, dead tired from the movement. She wondered if anyone was ever going to find her down here and if she could find a way out if no one came. Feeling lonelier than she had in years, her hand instinctively went to her necklace.  
The lovely piece of jewelry she'd gotten from Dorian, the only one she owned. The crystal was a mix of golden brown fading to yellow and then clear, citrine she was told, infused with magic to let the one holding it speak with the one holding its twin. The crystal was fastened in a leather cord with intricate metal and wooden beads tied in lovely patterns. Dorian had obviously taken her Dalish heritage in consideration when he had it made and she never left anywhere without it.

Her heart skipped a beat. The crystal! How had she been so stupid? Fumbling with the cord she hoisted the precious necklace up from under her armor only to have her hopes dashed as her heart sank to the bottomless pit of her gut. Choking on a sob, she felt around the jagged edges of the broken crystal still sitting firmly in their bindings. Her precious gift had been destroyed and with it her only means of communicate with her other half. Her brother in all but name.

"Ir abelas 'ma lathem isa'ma'lin…" _(I'm sorry my beloved brother…)_ She whispered to the darkness. Not knowing which devastation was worse at the time, she hid her face in her arm and gave in to the soul-crushing despair until her eyes ran dry.

~.o.O.o.~

The only thing she could hear was her own labored breathing. Time was not a concept in this cave and she had no idea how long she had been laying there. She was parched, hungry and feverish from what she believed was the beginning of an infection. The only thing disturbing the eerie quiet was the occasional rains of pebbles and sand from above but nothing else broke through. And why would it? If someone was searching through the rubble they would follow the tunnel to the deep roads, not search under it. Her team was to be found around the tunnel after all.

She wondered what Cullen was doing, if he was searching, crushed as he couldn't find her. And Dorian, had he lived? Clasping her hand around her necklace she forced the thoughts out of her head as she sat up.  
No more feeling sorry for herself! She needed to get her act together and move. Get her bearings and search for a way out.  
She took the last swig of water from her emergency satchel as well as the last bits of dried food, mentally chastising herself. Either she found a way forward or she would die trying. Never in her life had she laid down and admitted defeat and she was not about to start now.

Gritting her teeth she hoisted herself to her very unsteady feet, almost tipping over from imbalance a couple of times until her head adjusted to the position. She took a few stumbling steps in a random direction. Trying to find something to orient by. A wall, building or anything really.  
The ground was a bit uneven but lacked the sharp edges of a natural cave and she guessed, or rather she hoped she had fallen into a forgotten dwarven Thaig. That would at least mean she would not suffocate and that she would most likely be able to find water. If she was lucky she would even be able to find some food and supplies.

After a while of feeling herself forwards she found a wall, leaning heavily on it for support, she followed it to the right. She took breaks as she coughed or when her legs gave out and she could feel her stamina draining with every move. Stubborn as she was she kept walking, kept moving forward. It felt like eternity had passed when she slumped to the ground utterly spent. Was there no way out of this blighted area?  
Her muscles burned, her veins burned and she could hardly keep her eyes open. She was sure now that she was running a fewer, being hungry and lacking water was not doing her body any favors either as it prevented her from healing properly.

Just a brief nap to catch her breath she told herself as she drifted off to the void of unconsciousness again.

~.o.O.o.~

Anuiras eyes fluttered weakly as her ears caught a much desired sound over her own ragged gasps and sputtering coughs. The glorious sound of water, bubbling and dripping somewhere nearby. She was filled with indescribable joy and the hope it inspired gave her will enough to override her debilitated limbs, forcing them to move towards the delicious sound. In her eagerness she almost stumbled head first into the small pond that seemed to almost materialize in front of her.  
She wanted nothing more than to dive in, clean herself thoroughly and drink until water poured out of her ears, but she was to experienced and careful.

Gingerly she felt around the pond, examining it and the water with her senses. From what she could tell the water was bubbling up from beneath, as if something was pushing the water upwards in a steady stream. The water then purled and rippled its way down a small trench in the floor. The trench followed the side of the wall, away from Anuira and seemed to have been carved by tools. She decided to follow it later.  
Flowing of the water meant it was not most likely not stale and could be drinkable. She gathered up some water in her cupped hands and took a very small anxious sip, tasting for poisonous or hazardous elements.  
The water tasted wonderful, if a little metallic and Anuira, thankful for her luck, drank her fill with almost giddy glee.

She cleaned herself of as best she could, happy to be rid of the clumps of dried blood that riddled her body. She hoped cleaning up her wounds would also help slowing the spread of the infection and eliminate the possibility of blood poisoning. When she was done she was wet and a bit cold, but felt happier than she had in days.  
The sound of the well was a pleasant company after the crushing silence from before and she was happy to lay there with her back against the wall listening to its' voice as it lulled her to sleep. She knew she could be attacked at any moment, but she desperately needed rest for her injuries to heal. If she continued to degenerate she would not be able to search for a way out, much less hunt for food and she was already deadly hungry.

She fell asleep with her dagger in hand, praying to the creators for protection.

~.o.O.o.~

There was something eerie familiar with the halls and rooms she was walking through. Covered in blotches and strings of something that smelled like putrid flesh, she felt like she had seen it before or been there at some point. It was like trying to remember a childhood nightmare.  
Everywhere she looked she saw signs of bloodbath and carnage. Dead, dismembered, ravaged bodies, on pikes or strewn across the floor. Blood spatters stretching across the floors, walls and sometimes reaching even the sealing. But not a single enemy in sight and it was making her nerves stand attension as she stealthily made her way towards the occasional screams she could hear emanating from somewhere above.

Going up the stairs to the fourth floor she heard the screams getting louder, the voice was pained and it babbled incoherently but she couldn't make out any words. She moved carefully through the rooms and corridors, using every bit of subterfuge-skill she possessed as she advanced towards the source of the commotion.  
Opening yet another door in the endless corridors of rooms and spaces, she found it plastered by those foul smelling, horrid pulsing meat-sacks, oozing with a purplish, pus-like substance. She almost felt herself heave in the thick stench. It grew worse the further up she got and she was beginning to dread what she would find at the top of this building.

"No! Leave me alone! You will not break me!" Anuiras head snapped to attention at the panicked and very much pained, but familiar voice coming from the other side of the second door. She didn't really want to touch it since it was covered in those pulsing tendrils, blotches and that vile pus but the voice had awoken a desperate urge, deep in the very core of her being.  
She slammed her hand down on the handle, ripping it away from the disgusting mush of filth covering it, as soon as the door gave way. It slid up surprisingly easy as she peered inside while drying of her hand on her armor with a slight shiver.

She instantly recognized the scenery behind the door. She could describe this room like the back of her hand, anytime, anywhere and in whatever condition she would be in. The blotches of pulsing, putrid flesh clinging to the wall on her way here, now remembered why they felt familiar. The patterns on the doors, the style of the furniture and decorations, they were all familiar due to her knowledge of this particular room. It had been etched in her mind for as long as she was going to live.

This was that cruel, horrible nightmare of a hideous memory long since passed. It was **his** relentless nightmare.

"Cullen!" she called out as she laid the few feet separating them behind her in a mere moment. Acting purely on instinct she reached across the magic walls of his prison, stepping inside it to firmly hold his cheek. Seeking his eyes she urged him to focus on only her.  
He fought her every step of the way, though he was week. He pushed her away, eyes wide in fear and flickering around the room. He was looking at everything **but** her and she didn't understand. This had always worked in the past. Just her touch had made him start to calm but now it seemed to have the opposite effect.

" 'Ma vhen'an! Eolasa em sal!" _(My love/heart! Remember me!)_ she pleaded with him, forgetting herself as she fell into her native language. She was reaching out her hand to him but kept a little distance so as not to scare him further.

"No… no it can't be… you can't be…" He looked like he was trying to claw his way through the barrier to get away from her as he whispered his words like a chant.

" 'Ma soun vheraan, remember me." _(My strong lion, remember me.)_ she said gently and slowly leaned to touch his panicked, grief-stricken face again. He stared at her for a brief moment, back pressed against the barrier and with horror plastered across his face. Then he looked away, silently crashing to the ground, shying away from her touch as he curled in on himself still mumbling those words of rejection. As she looked at him in confusion she slowly remembered her reality. The somnoborium, the darkspawn, her fall and her heart broke as it dawned on her.

He thought she was dead…


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen get's left behind. Angst.

Startling awake on his bedroll, panting and drenched in sweat, Cullen tried to shake the dream from his mind. He must have fallen asleep somewhere along the night, despite his grief, and despite hearing Dorians words constantly echo around his mind.  
He sighed at the thought of his dreams having found new horrifying ways to torture him. The dreams was bad enough before, without the added element of his dead fiancé and he wasn't sure he could withstand much more pain and sorrow.

She had seemed so real, just like she had been when she helped him in the past. Soothing his mind with her compassion and love as she helped him steer the nightmare away until he woke up.  
Cullen's heart cried out in what he believed was false hope. If she had had her arm and the mark when she disappeared, he would have jumped on the possibility of it really being her. But she didn't have the mark, she couldn't enter the fade to survive a deadly blast and she couldn't enter his dreams any more.

This was all just his griefstrickened minds wild wants he told himself. And it was going to be the death of him…

Cullen pulled himself together enough to put on a shirt. Running his fingers through his hair he put on his boots and he left his tent to get some air. The air helped clear his head and after a while of aimless wandering through the outskirts of the camp he decided to check up on Dorian.  
The mage was just as crushed as Cullen and he understood how much it must have hurt to accept the fact that Anuira was gone.  
The world would be that much poorer with the loss of her, of that Cullen was sure, but he had to push his feelings aside. He needed to function, to get the troops back to Skyhold and tend to its affairs. Someone had to, and with him and Dorian being probably the closest thing Anuira had to a family, the responsibility of Skyhold became theirs.

Reaching Dorians tent he announced himself, careful not be too loud as he didn't want to wake up the soldiers sleeping close by. When no one answered or even stirred in the tent he carefully lifted the flap to peek inside. The sight made his gut clench painfully. Aside from a note laying neatly folded on the pillow of the bedroll, the tent was devoid of all things Dorian. A bit chocked, Cullen walked over to pick up and read the note.

_"_ _Going back to Tevinter.  
There's nothing for me here now._

_/ Dorian Pavus"_

The ex-templar sank to the floor as he crumpled the note in his hand, cursing the blighted mage for leaving him alone in this mess. Dorian was not the only one suffering, not the only one wanting to run away screaming and hide from the painful truth.  
Trying desperately to keep his sorrow in check he slammed a fist to the ground, focusing on the physical pain instead of the hurt in his heart threatening to tear him apart.  
Cullen found a bit of anger to hold on to, anger directed at Dorian for being an egotistical bastards, anger at the somnoborium for stealing the love of his life and anger at the whole of world for not saving its savior. Being angry felt better than falling to pieces in front of people and Cullen held on to the sliver of fury like a lifeline.

~.o.O.o.~

"Cullen?" A voice rang out across the bustling and almost fully packed camp. "Cullen Rutherford?!"

"Yes! Over here…" Cullen shouted bitterly and then trailed of, annoyed at no one in particular. The man came jogging over to him as he packed the last things into the wagon.

"There's a message." said the unknown scout matter-of-factly. "From Lady Nightingale."

Cullen looked the man over as he took the letter he was bidden and thanked the man by offering him what was left of the breakfast the camp had shared. As he read the letter he felt himself scoff as things fell into place. Of course, they'd tried to off her before. She was, after all, one of the only people in Thedas who commanded loyalty across nations and with ears and eyes almost everywhere.

_"_ _Cullen,_

_I found the culprits responsible for the attack on Lavellans life after Halamshiral. It was the same cult you are currently battling in Harper's Ford. And from what we've gathered so far it looks as if they want to get their hands on Skyhold, we don't know why yet.  
I'll try to have this organization infiltrated and keep you updated._

_We haven't received word from you in a couple of days. Are you ok? Is the threat dealt with?_

_/ Nightingale"_

How much more pressure could he take before he exploded? He knew he had a hard couple of days ahead of him, writing a lot of heavy letters to a lot of people around Thedas. And he silently wished someone else would take over this burden so he could go hide somewhere secluded and lick his wounds. But she would not want him to abandon everyone and everything she had fought for. He stalked off to find ink and parchment and wrote a short, none too happy reply before going back to the messenger.

"Before I go…" the young male courier said timidly as Cullen turned his annoyed gaze at him. The messenger's eyes went to the ground and he squirmed anxiously.

"May I ask… Miss Lavellan… I mean… I haven't seen her… is she ok?" the young male sputtered, shifting anxiously from foot to foot and had a hard time looking Cullen in the eyes. The ex-templar closed his eyes, looking away, sighing as his features twisted in grief.

"She's gone…" he whispered in a choked voice as he turned on his heal and marched off with a polite but stiff nod in the messengers direction. The courier stood stock still, chock painted across his face and looked as if he had been struck by lightning. Cullen didn't care, he already had too much to deal with but not enough time or energy to do it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan wanders the deep roads. Get's a friend?

Anuira awoke from her sleep in a daze, not bothering to move as she felt grief surround her heart in a chilling hold and tears slip down her cheeks. She had finally been back with her love, she could have told him where she was but he had pushed her away and cast her out before she had the chance.  
The realization made her insides clench painfully with more than just brutal hunger. Cullen thought she was dead, he refused to believe she could be real and shut her out due to his own fears. That caused a huge rift of despair to break open and surge like wildfire inside her, threatening to devour everything she was.

The maddening sadness slowly turned into blazing anger the more she thought about it. She'd finally been able to contact him, although how she could only guess, and he rejected her as if she was nothing.  
That bumbling oaf of a man… How dare he! Because of his fear of demons he had cast her out without hesitation, without listening. He was not the only one suffering… She suddenly wished it had been Dorian instead, **he** would have believed her.  
The indignant anger grew until she could use it to shake life and warmth back into her numb limbs. She decided she was going to survive this, she had to, if not only for the satisfaction of punching Cullen in the face for being a blighted idiot.

Sitting up was a painful struggle manageable only through sheer will and determination. Her limbs were chilled to the bone while her injuries burned as if infused with fire and she felt stiff all over. She looked over her injuries as best she could, judging them to at least be getting better even if they still hurt enough to make her want to scream. Not to mention they were not healing in the best of ways and would probably leave heavy scaring since she had no poultices, potions and most certainly no healer.

Sighing at the thought of looking even more intimidating, she drank and filled her satchel with water from the pond. People were already wary of her since she was an elf and even more so since she became the inquisitor.  
With every new visible scar she could feel people distancing themselves further. The scars on her face was of course minimized thanks to poultices and meticulous healing magic, but the faint traces of them was enough. Enough to remind people of who she was, what she did for them and enough to make people back away in respectful and fearful awe of her.  
These scars was probably going to have people jumping out of their skin and she grumbled in annoyance as she cleaned herself up in the pond.

She needed to move.

Following the small watercourse through the darkness would ensure she at least had water for a while and hopefully it would lead to the formerly inhabited areas. If she could find the settlement she probably could find some supplies and after that she could start exploring how to get out of this predicament.

~.o.O.o.~

"Amahn…" _(Here…)_ the voice said as Anuira skidded around the corner to continue her sprint towards whatever. Her legs burned with fatigue, her lungs screamed as he forced air into them and her head spun from the exertion she was putting herself through. Adrenaline and fear flooding her senses was the only things making her body function, hunted as she was by the dreaded foul creatures of the netherworld. She would be dead in mere moments if she didn't move since the darkspawn were not far off and would love to have their hand on her.

It seemed like ages ago she had stumbled along the watercourse to find the ruins of what she guessed was once a proud dwarven society. Scouring the buildings carefully she found she was in luck. There were a lot of mushrooms for the picking, cooking-utensils still useable and she could use the scarce and decaying wooden furniture to fuel a fire. Of course the fire drew unwanted attention in form of a pack of deepstalkers and she'd just barely managed to get out alive from the fight. But at least she had gained meat.  
The meat of the deepstalkers tasted bad, bitter, but it was better than nothing. Barring herself in one of the houses she slept rather well that night before setting off into the deep roads.

Anuria had been her skulking her way through the shadows of the deep roads for creators knew how long. Growing more and more anxious and on edge, barely sleeping and trying to tune out that incessant humming sound when she stumbled upon a group of darkspawn.  
In her tired state she had lost her grip of the high edge she was pressing herself onto as she hid from the group of snarling fiends. And she had tumbled headlong and flailing down into their midst. She managed to cut down half of them before turning to flee down the nearest passage.

She had been hunted ever since.

Her unholy pursuers grew in numbers with each passing moment and those few time she had been forced to stop their upper hand was clear as day. It was during one of her stops the voice had appeared and it was probably the only reason she was still alive and breathing as it had guided her to a passage making it possible for her to escape the darkspawn momentarily.  
She had had no time to really contemplate what the voice was or who it belonged to since it appeared in the middle of her flight from the retched creatures inhabiting the deep roads. And she knew full well it could be a demon or worse, but right now, with snarling darkspawn groping for her at every turn, she couldn't care less. Living took precedence over caution and she was reacting on sheer instinct to whatever the voice beckoned.

It led her to cracks, wide enough for her to squeeze through but narrow enough for the darkspawn not to. It told her which way to turn in the ever branching passages and helped her to widen the space between her and the darkspawn clawing at her heels.  
She faltered only once in believing it. It told her to go straight and she didn't because straight ahead was a solid wall. She had failed to notice the crack in the ground until she ran past it and then it was too late to turn back. She learned her lesson then.

"Ithas'tar…" _(Look up…)_ the voice whispered in her mind and without hesitation she sprinted towards the wall of the intersection, searching upwards for the escape. Finding it she launched herself towards it with every bit of dwindling strength she had left in her body, pushing off from any surface she could find on the way up. And she made it, barely. She had to wriggle to get her waist through the crack but managed to get herself all the way through before her pursuers caught up.

After crawling away from the hole she collapsed on the uneven ground not even caring about the sharp edges cutting in to her face and body. She was panting frantically and barely staying conscious.  
The darkspawn below were growling, screeching and hissing loudly but they must not have noticed where she went since they were not clawing at the crack. She let out a sigh and relaxed as she realized she was safe, for the moment.

She lay there tuning out the fiendish sounds of the fuming darkspawn, letting her battered body have the rest it so desperately sought as she listened to that strange humming she'd been hearing for a while.  
It sounded like magic, like the kind of raw magic she used to hear when approaching the rifts in the veil after the breach. And it had gotten stronger since first she heard it.

"Taras…" _(stand/rise)_ the voice beckoned and interrupted her well-earned rest.

"Sathan, nuvenan hamina…" _(Please, I need to rest…)_ she begged in a whisper, pinching her eyes shut as she tried to block the voice from her mind. She felt more dead than alive, broken.

"Garas amahn, rogasha da'lan." _(Come here, brave [female] child.)_ it insisted when Anuira made no indication of moving.

She wanted nothing more than to tell it to shut up so she could rest in peace. But there was something urgent in its tone, spurring her to move even though her body protested violently.  
Her sight swam with black and white spots and she almost threw up after managing to get up to her hands and knees. Shutting her eyes tight, she concentrated on stopping her dry heaving stomach before it expelled what little content it had.  
Once she had herself back under control she followed the beckoning voice through the tunnel, scraping up her legs and hands in the process on the jagged floor.

It became pitch black quickly as she progressed down the tunnel but she continued, now wondering if she did the right thing trusting this mysterious voice. It didn't seem to want the darkspawn to catch her but who knew what it wanted now when the darkspawn was no longer an immediate threat. Either way she could not stay in this small tunnel she decided and crawled further, ignoring the pain from her legs and hands. It was a miracle she had any blood left she thought and couldn't help but release a short snicker at the morbid humor in her mind.

She was dragged back to the present as she could see a light shimmer at what seemed to be the end of the tunnel. Her heart skipped several beats before she could manage to reel in her hopes of it being the surface. It was all the wrong colors but she crept forward faster even so.  
The humming sound was growing ever louder and it almost felt like it was pressing down on her the further she went. As she reached the end she hesitantly peeked out to try and get her bearings and froze as she did so.

"Isenatha…" _(Dragon)_ Anuira whispered reverently in her frozen state as her eyes took in the huge golden creature curled in a heap in front of her, surrounded by a blueish shimmer. It was breathtakingly beautiful as well as intimidating and she could not help but admire it.  
Something moved beside the huge dragon and Anuira snapped out of her daze. The movement came from a wisp, like the once from the voices of Vir Abelasan in the fade and as it spoke she instantly recognized the voice.

"Nuvenan mar halani." _(I need your help.)_


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anuira get's to know the new friend and meets up with a few more. Who?

"Ara halani?" _(My help?)_ Anuira said blinking in confusion at the wisp billowing beside the sleeping dragon.

"Vin da'lan." _(Yes [female] child.)_ the voice said as the wisp steadied itself, morphing slowly into a male elf clad in the same type of armor she had seen Solas and the sentinels of Mythals temple wear. His hair was black as the void, tied neatly in a thick, intricate braid reaching down to his lower back. He had broad shoulders for an elf, a thick neck in stark contrast to his pointy nose and slim lips and his skin was tanned as if he'd been outside most of his time. His eyes had the same golden color as Mythals, filled with not only knowledge and power but something darker, lurking just beneath the surface.

Anuira couldn't help herself. He was gorgeous, regal and she stared. Thinking that she must have gone crazy in her loneliness and solitude in these creators' forsaken deep roads.

"Nuvenan dalas em." _(I need you to kill me.)_ the elf said solemnly, boring his eyes deep into Anuira who was still peeking out from the tunnel several feet above ground. She flinched as her mind slowly registered what the elf had said.

"Ahn?" _(What?)_ her dazed mind managed, looking at him in horror.

"I'm sorry, we don't have much time. I need you to kill the dragon, me, to prevent me from being corrupted by the darkspawn." the male said gravely, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched her intently.  
Anuira struggled a moment with his switching of language and even as her mind adjusted it refused to comprehend what this mysterious man said. She desperately tried to think of everything she had learned from Solas and Dorian about demons and similar ilk. Trying to find her way in this maze of unimaginable things, and trying to see what the possible agenda for such a heinous crime against nature could be.

She had started to debate whether she had fallen asleep or not and was being tempted by a demon in the fade, when the elf spoke again.

"Come down child. I will not hurt you."

She did as she was bidden but slipped and was caught by his strong arms before she hit the floor. Her legs trembled under her weight as he put her down and she had to hold on to him for support a few moments before she managed to stand on her own. She could not be certain this was real, but with the memory of Cullens unknowing betrayal still fresh in her mind, she refused to be shortsighted and turn down the possibility of reality.  
Her mind stumbled over the memory of the somnoborium. They were in Highever to intercept the darkspawn in finding another old god and this might very well be it.

"If this dragon… is you, and I kill it…" she said looking between the elf and the beautiful dragon with a hesitant expression. "…you'll die."

"Yes." the elf acknowledged sternly.

"Does that not bother you?" she said, eyes pleading with a burning need to understand.

"Yes." he said a bit softer than earlier and a small sad smile played at the edges of his lips.

"Is there no other way?" she exclaimed not at all happy with the choice of either killing him or letting him get corrupted and setting off another blight in the process.

"There must be something else. You're a dragon for crying out loud! Can't we chase the darkspawn away? If you're too week, I can fight them so you can escape…" she rambled until she was cut off by an incredulous look from the elf.

"You would sacrifice yourself for someone you have just met and know nothing about?" he asked in astonishment, eyeing her with puzzled look. Anuira met his gaze, squaring her shoulders as her features set in determination. Her eyes blazed with resolve and suddenly she looked nothing like the broken shell of a being that had fallen into the males arms just a moment ago.

"I would give my life for many things and none of them as noble as aiding an ancient being as yourself." she said bluntly.

"I see." the elf said still eyeing her with curiosity as he seemed to contemplate something.

"Would you be willing to listen to a suggestion that may be favorable for us both then?" he asked after a moments contemplating, nervously eyeing the wall furthest from them to the right. Anuira followed his gaze and wondered how close the darkspawn was. She summoned the Vir Abelasan by reflex to ask them and heard the elf gasp.  
She snapped her head to him, at the same time the voices spoke of the narrowing window of time to speak to this creature.

"Vir Abelasan?" he asked barely audible.

"Yes." she confirmed with a nod.

"If you are open enough and strong enough to brave the well, would you consider housing my spirit until such a time presents itself that I may find another vessel?" he asked and for the first time since she met him he looked like he had hope.

"What do I need to do?" she asked resolutely.

"Open your mind and accept my essence." he said as his body shimmered and dissipated into a wisp once more.  
Anuira closed her eyes and focused on nothing but acceptance, emptying herself as she would when she was about to meditate.  
Just as with the well she felt her being stir, twist and swirl in attempt to accommodate something more. There was pain, as if her body was being ripped apart in the seams and put back together again. She gritted her teeth as she felt the spirit settle and then sank to the floor panting from the ordeal.

"You still need to sever the link between my spirit and my body." the voice urgently echoed in her mind and Anuira forced her eyes open trying to get up. Her body screamed at her abuse and she gritted her teeth forcing the pain into the back of her mind where it could not hinder her from doing what needed to be done.  
She could hear the darkspawn scratching, screeching and growling from the other side of the right wall, and she knew she had to get this done quickly. Her legs shook as she forced them to stand. She wobbled as she stumbled her way towards the dragon and she fell multiple times scraping her already damaged limbs even more.

Her knife slide out of its sheath silently and found the dragon's throat at the same moment the darkspawn breeched the right wall. In a sudden rush of adrenaline she slit the dragon's neck from its mouth almost all the way to its breast, with a clean sweep.  
The rooms was teeming with darkspawn in a matter of seconds. She was desperately pressing herself into the shadows of a corner in the room and she silently wondered how in the name of Mythal she was going to be able to get out of there alive.

"I will help you." the voice rumbled. "Keep to the shadows and be quiet." it continued cryptically. Anuira, seeing no other choice and not having the strength to argue, once again followed the voice whispering in her mind towards safety.

~.o.O.o.~

"Anuira!" someone exclaimed in a questioning voice. Her mind registered the voice but she couldn't find the will to care. Her body was moving through will alone and had been for days. She had lost track of time as well as space but she was determined to get out and for that she had to keep moving.

One foot in front of the other… Repeat.

That was the only thing really getting any foothold in her brain anymore. Even the voice of the elf, dragon or whatever he was, had stopped talking other than giving directions when needed.

"By the stone, it is her!" another, deeper voice said in clear surprise and awe. Anuira didn't stop. She stubbornly and mechanically trudged forward, one foot in front of the other, on her set path until one of the someones grabbed her arm to stop her. She didn't turn, didn't react and she didn't fight the grip. She only stopped cold in her tracks, eyes unseeingly fixed on the ground in front of her as the other someone stood in front of her unseeing gaze.

"Anuira? Ancestors have mercy, can you hear me?" the female of the someones said worriedly as the elf felt a hand on her face. It was as cool as ice against her fevered skin but she remained frozen in her tracks. The lack of movement made her resolve crumble, her exhausted body faltered and she felt her knees give way as the floor of the deep roads rushed up to greet her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anuira in the deep roads, who was that she met? And what's Dorian up to pray tell?

"Would you stop fidgeting!" rumbled a deep voice from somewhere on her left. There were soft clattering accompanying the voice and Anuira could hear the distinct crackle of wood burning as well as the smell of food. It made her stomach constrict painfully and grumble in anticipation.  
Slowly her body came back to life, and with it came all the agony and discomfort from the abuse she'd put her body through. Her throat felt like she had been breathing dust for days and her body was sore all over. Every tiny bit of her skin hurt, her muscles burned and it felt like she had broken every bone in her body.

"I am not fidgeting! I just want to make sure she has everything she needs…" a female voice said defensively.

"What could she possibly need in her current state?!" the deep male voice rumbled with a chuckle. "It's a sodding miracle she's still breathing!"

"Yes. Your right. I know." chimed the female in a small voice. "I don't know how she does it. Surviving, I mean."

Anuira could not help but try to place the voices. She had the distinct feeling she knew them. There was a short silence where all she heard was the shuffling of feet coming up towards her. A hand scooted carefully in under her neck, tilting her head up ever so slightly as something was pressed against her lips. She felt something cool and wet brush her cracked lips and sighed in relief as a small amount of liquid poured through her slightly parted lips and soothed its way down her throat.

Stubborn and curious as she was Anuira managed to slightly open her eyes. Her vision swam and everything was grainy and distorted. She groaned slightly, blinking rapidly as she tried desperately to get the world back into focus. She made a move to sit up and she felt the hand on her neck stiffen in response.

"Renn!" the female almost shouted in distress and a pair of hands quickly found her shoulders, gently pushing her back down on the ground.

"Are you kidding me? How is this blasted elf waking up already?!" The male voice said as Anuira let herself be laid back down closing her eyes once again.  
Her entire body felt like it wanted to die from only the small effort to sit up, and seeing how the ground was not all jagged hard edges anymore, laying down was not a bad idea. Feeling safe, she drifted in and out of consciousness as she listened to the sounds surrounding her.

The name Renn swiveled around in her head for several moments as she was grasping at her fleeing memories. She knew that name, it connected to something sad, epic and something mysterious. And as her memories aligned themselves with the present, she uncontrollably jolted upright, eyes wide and searching as she uttered only a single word in a cracked whisper.

"Valta?"

"Son of a nug!" the male dwarf sitting at her side shouted as he jumped several feet away from her in sheer surprise, dropping everything he had in his hands.

"Inquisitor! How are you awake?!" the female dwarf exclaimed as she hurried to her side to try and help the elf back down. Anuira resisted stubbornly, managing to glare from under her bangs at the female dwarf she had now identified as the former shaper of Orzammar, Valta.

"Sodding ancestors, you're stronger than a blighted ogre!" the male exclaimed incredulously as he righted his position again, picking up his things while shaking his head at her.

"You've only been unconscious for a day Inquisitor. You really shouldn't be up." Valta cooed, still close at her side, despite Anuiras scowling.

Anuira tried to talk, to ask questions and voice her wishes of more water and creators willing, some of that mouthwatering food. But her throat faltered. It was as dry as a day in the desert and all that came out was a rasping wheeze.  
It must have been enough though because Valta handed over the mug of water and Renn placed a bowl of something delicious-smelling at her side. She took small swigs of water in turns with small sips of the broth.  
Neither of the dwarfs interrupted her as she filled her starved body with new life.

As she filled her stomach ever so slowly, her mind wandered, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of memories since the day she killed the dragon. She wondered quietly to herself if her passenger was still alive and he answered almost immediately.

"Ar ame on, da'lan. Te'telsila." _(I am ok [female] child. Don't worry.)_ his voice rang out clear as day and she couldn't help herself as she looked discretely around to see if anyone other than her had heard it. None of the dwarfs looked away from what they were doing and Anuira figured he only spoke in her mind, same as before.  
She asked her passenger a lot of questions but he stayed mostly silent, telling her only that he helped speed her recovery with the magic he possessed and that anything else was best discussed face to face, preferably in the fade.

"I didn't think I'd see either of you again. And I'm not the Inquisitor any longer. Just Anuira will do." Anuira said wincing at her own ragged voice as she turned her attension back towards the dwarfs.

"Well, me and Renn got your message, the glyph. But I got anxious when you didn't reply. Renn found Cullens message on a group dead legionnaires and on our way here… We didn't dare hope…" Valta explained.

"Funny thing is, a couple of days before we found you, the darkspawn blocking our route started thinning out. " Renn piped up, looking expectantly at Anuira. "You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Anuira fired of a crooked, cocky smile at the lieutenant and shrugged in response. The dwarfs eyed her with curiosity but thankfully didn't pry any further on the subject.  
She was in no mood to share that she had lived through the attack on the chantry, been hunted mercilessly by darkspawn, been led through the deep roads by a mysterious voice who later turned out to be an ancient being asking to hitch a ride in her body and escaped mostly unharmed from the central horde of darkspawn.  
People would be hurling 'abomination' at her left and right if they found out, just as they had done to Sigrid. The spirit-possessed mage they had met in the Frostbacks.

Once again Anuira turned her attension back to the dwarfs and inquired about their whereabouts and happenings since they last saw each other. She found out that Renn hadn't actually fully died but instead had been infused with the lyrium that had hit him. Valta had gained the knowledge when she merged with the titan and went to get Renn back. The scream the people remaining in Heidruns Thaig had heard echoing through the deep roads had been Renn when Valta had coaxed him awake again. Apparently it had hurt, badly, after being left unattended so long.

Renn proudly showed of his lyrium markings that seemed to crawl out of each hole made by the projectiles, swirling their way outwards to form vine-like lines. Valta shared that she also had markings that had spread from where she had been hit by the projectile but refrained from showing them off.  
They switched to listening to Valta go on about all the wonders she found in the deep roads. The ancient Thaigs, rock wraiths, temples and magic. Never once did she utter any significant clues about anything but Anuira could guess at much from the information she got.

The rock wraiths sounded a lot like the creature they had slayed under Heidruns Thaig and with the information she had plied out of Varric on the subject of the Primeval Thaig, also known now as "Bartrands Folly". She could pretty much guess that a rock wraiths, or the profane as they called themselves, probably were former dwarves. Consumed after ingesting too much lyrium, driving them mad, possessed and quite possibly unable to depart the world of the living no matter the loss of their mortal shell.

In her curious stumbling attempts at research she had found significant amount of evidence or clues that the ancient deep Thaigs, especially those close to lyrium-mines, contained a significant amount of old god adornments, statues and such. And seeing how she recently found herself in the deep roads older than the ones known, aiding an ancient being flee the corruption of the darkspawn. She was not above believing there was a connection between the old gods, titans and her own gods. And she had no doubt that Valta and Renn already knew what it was.  
Remembering the warnings of the well of sorrows, she turned her focus back to the present.

"How do I get back to the surface?" Anuira asked in her cracked voice when the banter had dissipated and she brought herself out of her ponderings.

"We'll take you to the nearest exit as soon as you have recovered enough." Valta said. "You've been lost down here almost a month."

Anuira choked on the water she just sipped.

"A month?!" she asked in a barely audible whisper looking chocked from Valta to Renn and back again.

~.o.O.o.~

Once again he was at the bar, drinking himself into a stupor to be able to have a chance at even a semblance of sleep. Sleep had a tendency to be elusive since the night the chantry blew up. And even though he tried very hard to bury the feelings of sorrow and loss deep in his soul, it bubbled to the surface at the most inopportune times. Anyone who met him would not think anything amiss more than maybe a little lack of sleep. But those who knew him saw he was heartbroken and weighed with heavy sorrow.

Dorian had made his first stop in Kirkwall, notifying Varric of the news of their friend's demise. It had been a rather awkward business until Varric had suggested they share a nights relentless drinking in honor of their lost ones. It didn't do much to dull the pain he felt throbbing like a jagged hole in the center of his being, but at least he had been able to get an hour of uninterrupted sleep at the end of the night.  
Everytime he closed his eyes he saw her face, smiling at him or giving him one of those incessant hugs of hers. And every time the images of those lovely moments turned to monstrous nightmares where his beloved friend was torn to shreds in a million different but equally horrid ways.

He had landed in Nevarra two days ago, fully intent on continuing his journey to Minrathous but he was met by a curious sight. There were a lot of Tevinters in Nevarra. Unnaturally many.  
The tavern he was at now, he didn't remember its name since he deemed it unimportant but it had proven to be a source of some very interesting gossip. It served as a good distraction, his natural suspicions against his fellow countrymen made him seek out more information until he could hint at a plot. And not a good one at that.

Apparently the Tevinter Imperium was not big enough for the supremacists and so they had to expand. But in the eyes of the somnoborium it was not so much expanding, as it was reclaiming stolen territory. Nothing new under the sky for Dorian really, he was breed in the country and knew first hand of the self-righteous hypocrisy one could so easily find there.

The big question was, why was the Nevarrans not acting?


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking in with Cullen. Angst.

He was running, frantically making his way through the dimly lit corridors of the netherworld. His lungs screamed in protest as he filled them with air, only to expel it seconds later. His panting was inhuman as his body overdosed on the fear-induced adrenaline pumping through his veins.  
He felt talons of the snarling fiends behind him grace his back slightly and jerked away. Even such minor scratch burned his back like fire and he could fell the revolting sickness spreading ruthlessly through his entire body in mere moments.

He was not sure how long he had been fleeing. He didn't even know where he was or where he was going. He just kept running, praying and forcing his body to move faster.

But he was trapped, there was no way out.

The thoughts hit him hard, knocking the wind out of him and making him stumble slightly in his sprint. And as despair settled over him making his limbs heavy and sluggish, he fell.

He was instantly overrun by his frenzied pursuers. Their corruption and vile stench surrounded him mercilessly, smothering even the tiniest memory of happiness and beauty as they pulled and prodded him. Jagged, cruel teeth sunk deep into his flesh, ripping it off his bones with a sickening sound as his tortured screams drowned in the darkspawns triumphant cacophony of howls.

Jolting upright, screaming, panting and tangled in his sheets, Cullen recognized his room at Skyhold. He slumped back into his bed with his hands over his face, drenched in sweat and trembling from pain and fear.  
He had never fought many darkspawn in his life, and most certainly had never gotten lost in the deep roads. But still, this was the latest of his nightmares and one he could never fully shake as the last thing he ever saw in it, was the love of his life, switched in his place.

Anuira was sickly pale, thinner than he thought possible and badly wounded. Her usually sparkling turquoise eyes was dull, almost unseeing as they pleaded the words her cracked ashen lips could not speak. Her bloodied bare arm, covered in grime, cuts and horrid bite-marks desperately reached for him as her body jerked and spasmed with every piece of flesh torn away by relentless jaws.

She was gruesomely ripped apart, piece by tiny piece, right there in front of him and there was nothing he could do. He saw the life drain out of her, saw her sad, pleading eyes turned dark and cold, her arm falling to her side as her body went limp. Seconds later she was glaring at him with balefully dead eyes. Her mutilated lips slowly curling up in a hateful snarl and soon she released the first guttural inhuman growl as she clawed at him.

It was his fault.

He had not been strong enough or fast enough to save her and she was haunting him from the beyond because of it. He clenched his fists and pressed them into his eyes in an attempt to stop the waves of tears spilling onto his cheeks. The pain in his chest raw and throbbing, threatening to explode and it made him want to curl up in a ball and die.  
He swallowed a sob but couldn't stop the hushed whimper escaping his throat as he worked to get himself under control.  
He felt like a child. A child left in the dark, robbed of all sense of security and happiness. It hurt so much and some days he was sure his heart would just give out.

But as if to spite him, it never did.

He hauled himself out of bed, snatching up his tunic from the floor and putting it on as he moved towards the ladder. He needed to get some air and the ramparts was usually a forgiving place to lurk this time of the night. If he had been able to he would have stayed in the quarters he shared with Anuira, but after one night he moved back to his original room. Not being able to stand the near constant reminders of his failure and his loss.  
The only reason he stayed at Skyhold, managing its affairs, was to throw off the somnoborium, to irk them and make sure they couldn't get their soiled greedy paws on it.

He didn't have much more than petty vengeance now and he used his anger, his spite to crush every damnable attempt to further the somnoborium's plans.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories in the fade. Anuira's passanger makes himself known.

"Mihvera!" she shouted happily, waving like mad as she spotted the mage at a distance in the dense emerald forest. Anuira was squatting by her kill in a clearing that was filled with luscious green grass and wildflowers. Sunshine was bouncing of her void-black hair and playing hide and seek in the shadows of her greenish and brown leather armor.

"Did you get it?" the grey haired mage responded in a silky voice. Her green eyes shone with warmth as her full lips stretched in a brilliant smile that made her strikingly green vallaslin of Mythal crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

"Of course I did! You know I never miss." Anuira shot back in mirth as she flashed her widest grin at her best friend. "What about you? You get what you came for?"

"That and a lot more." the young spirit healer grinned back. She halted when she saw Anuiras knife go to the stomach of the deer.

"I'll go back ahead of you…" she said, wrinkling her nose. "You know I get queasy when you rinse the animals."

"See you at camp, lightweight." Anuira snickered, rolling her turquoise eyes at the mage who arched a brow and glared at her. Mihvera stuck out her tongue and spun on her heel, leaving the giggling hunter behind as she ventured back towards their waiting clan.

It took some time to properly gut the animal, rinsing it out in a nearby creek and leaving the unwanted parts where the scavengers of the forest could find them. It went against Anuiras believes to throw away a gift from nature, and if the elves couldn't use parts of the kill, she made sure she left it to the carnivorous wildlife of the forest.  
While she cleaned herself up in the creek she offered up a prayer to the gods for her luck in the hunt, and for the life she had taken to sustain her clan. When she was done she swung the small deer onto her back and started back towards camp.

Anuira slowed as she drew near the camp. The large clearing in the Planasene Forest looked different than she remembered. For one it was completely empty, devoid of any signs of her people.  
Confused she looked around, forgetting the deer that was supposed to be on her shoulders as she carefully drew her blades and prowled further into the clearing. There was not a single trace of her clan or anyone for that matter.

She reached to throw down her kill by a large boulder, only to find she had her daggers in hand and was no longer carrying any prey.  
With a sigh she remembered they were gone – she had been so happy to see Mihvera that she completely suppressed the truth for a short time - this was a dream and even though it hurt, she thanked the creators she could still meet her family there. If only for a moment.

Lost in her own thoughts, her heart stuttered and she had to swallow a very undignified squeak when a familiar deep, male voice greeted her.

"Ha'hren!" _(Elder!)_ Anuira exclaimed in a higher octave than she would have liked, as she spun around to meet the golden gaze of the muscular elf belonging to the voice. The hood of his dark green cloak with golden hems was pulled back, showing off the elfs stunning features and beautiful braid. His armor - made from what she guessed was dragonbone since it was similar to her own armor and also her daggers - was sparkling with the color of copper but had a prismatic hue to it. The clasps holding his cloak over his chest bore the symbol of the constellation Solium, as did his spaulders and knee cops.

"En'an'sal'en da'lan. Myathas em." _(Blessings [f] child. You honor me.)_ the elf said with a courteous nod her way.

"An'daran atish'an ha'hren. Ar sathem enastas." _(Greetings elder. I am pleased you approve.)_ Anuira replied calmly as she scrutinized the man a short distance in front of her. She wondered quietly why he had taken so long to make good on his unspoken promise to explain his circumstances. She'd been in the fade numerous times since she awoke in the care of Valta and Renn. Mostly she lapsed into horrid nightmares before getting control of the fade and thus she would have liked the company, but never had he shown up. Neither had the usual sets of demons or spirits she realized.

Barely had she finished her thoughts when he answered her unspoken questions, making her jump in surprise.

"You did not allow me entrance to your dreams before tonight." the elf said as his gaze traveled over her, seemingly looking for something. His features was a bit wary as he clasped his hands behind his back and met her turquoise eyes with his own golden.

"Excuse me? I did not allow you?" Anuiras jaw would have landed somewhere in the deep roads if she was not already physically there.  
Was the elf serious? She couldn't remember ever making the conscious choice to block him from her dreams. And just how was she even supposed to able to do so?

She could however, recall the dreams she had been having ever since she was practically dragged back from cold grasp of the void itself. The memories of the horrid dreams - where she was being hunted until she dropped from exhaustion and then viciously ripped apart by the darkspawn - made her shudder. She forced herself to focus on the regal man in front of her instead of her morbid dreams.

"Oh?" the elf said, arching a brow at her. "I see. You are not yet in control of your gift it seems."

"Forgive me for asking but what gift?" Anuira asked incredulously as she tried to mask her annoyance. She had had it with riddles to last her a life time and saying she was confused at this point was quite the understatement.  
Before the man could answer her she felt the familiar pull of the well as the voices started billowing, almost crawling around her and she sighed. Pinching the bridge of her nose and clenching her eyes shut - to keep the frustration from voicing itself - she listened to the voices.

"I've'an'virelan… Era'elgar…" _(Fade walker… Spirit dreamer)_ the voices chanted as they seemed to grovel before the elf, much like they had done towards the hooded elf spirit she had met after the Exalted Council.  
She recognized the use of the word 'Fade walker', that was something the well had whispered to her when her mind was spinning with questions about her consciously entering the fade that first time when she fled Halamshiral after losing her arm.

Wait! Did that mean the voices of the well considered her a Fade walker? Something equal to a 'somniari', a dreamer? But she was no mage! And what in the void did the well mean by spirit dreamer?

Her mind was reeling with a multitude of questions she could not answer. It frustrated her to no end and made her more than a little testy, so she pushed them all away - to be dealt with at a later date - and focused back towards the blackhaired elf now in front of her. Brow still arched, looking at her patiently but with ill-concealed curiosity and the tiniest hint of a smile gracing the edge of his thin lips.

"You're instincts serve you well. As does the Vir Abelas'an." he offered and Anuiras head snapped to meet his gaze once again. She felt a bit unnerved by the way he could so effortlessly read her thoughts but she decided it was not much she could do about that at this point. It would stop once he departed from her and until then, she would just have to put up with it. At least she could easily conceal him from the world since she could converse with him without talking.

Thank the creators for small fortunes.

"I don't handle it as well as I would like and the riddles… Mythal'enaste, they do nothing to help foster understanding." _(Mythal'enaste – by the grace of Mythal)_ she sighed as she closed her eyes again in frustration at the voices continued billowing, groveling, swirling around her.

"Yet you blocked me out of your dreams for days and right now you are keeping your thoughts shielded. Also you understand all Elvhen I have directed at you and replied with grace." the elf smiled warmly at her innocence. "Do not underestimate yourself da'lan."

She looked up at him, curious about so many things that just didn't make any sense to her, and one by one the elf patiently answered her questions.

Yes she had similar abilities to dreamers, yes she was a spirit dreamer – since she was housing a spirit of sorts – and yes she had instinctively blocked him from both her dreams and her thoughts although how he didn't know.  
How she came to possess the abilities to control the fade and block him – and apparently demon and spirits as well - out of her mind was something none of them could answer.  
To be a Fade walker, one must have been born with the gift but then again Anuira was not a mage at birth, as far as she knew anyway.  
It was a riddle to say the least and not one they could easily solve right there and then. They could only surmise that while Anuira had dreamed painful dreams of a gruesome death by the hands of the darkspawn, he - and as far as they knew everyone else - had not been able to get into her dream to help her. Much to his surprise.

Spirit dreamers or spirit mages – someone housing a spirit – came in different shapes. Mostly it was the same as what the Avvar mages went through until they were in control of their gifts. That was an unintrusive merging of two like minds and the two beings was easily parted when time came.  
Then you had the more hazardous merging's, like what had happened to Anders when he merged with Justice.

If one was to merge with a spirit - and particularly one from the mortal side of the veil - one had to be one with the ideal of the spirit in order not to corrupt it. That or you had to have extraordinary control of your emotions.  
Merging with a spirit on the mortal side of the veil was more dangerous than merging with a summoned spirit, since it meant there was no natural border to separate the spirit from the mortal and thus the two often became intertwined and could never again part ways.

"So… you and I can never part?" Anuira inquired sternly, remembering his words _'until I find another vessel.'_ quite clear. They had sat down during their discussion and she was now sitting across from him in the luscious green grass. One eyebrow cocked and thinking that this was more than she bargained for.

"Parting will not be an issue with us, I assure you." the elf said calmly, leaning his arm on his bent right knee as he met her hard sea-green gaze with his own golden.

"Why?" she wondered, more than a little suspicious, and rattled by the fact that she may end up like Anders. Thankfully she was calmed by the annoying wells voices, constantly whispering of the truth his words. Without their continual confirmation, she would probably had flown into a full-blown panic – or rage - by now. She knew all too well what had happened to Anders in the end, his willingness to help the spirit had been both their downfall and had led to the mages death. Unfortunately he did not die.

"Ryan dirtha'na sulrahn." _(I must tell you something.)_ the elf confessed, clearing his throat, giving off only the slightest impression he was uncomfortable.

"Ahn?" _(What?)_ Anuira asked firmly, switching effortlessly between languages as she eyed him guardedly.

"Ar melin…" _(My name…)_ the elf said looking cautiously back at her as she raised her brow at him.

Come to think of it, she had wondered why he had refused to tell her his name and a sudden feeling of cold dread wrapped its tendrils around her, squeezing until it was hard to breath. Every muscle in her body tensed making her feel like a bowstring on the edge of snapping. Adrenalin started pulsing through her veins and every sense, every part of her body, mind and soul became acutely on edge.

"Nar melin…?" _(Your name…?)_ she asked warily, narrowing her eyes at the elf ever so slightly.

"Vin…" _(Yes…)_ he said drawing in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh before squaring his shoulders and meeting her questioning gaze.

"Ar melin Elgar'nan." _(My name is Elgar'nan.)_


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annoying Elgar'nan, traipsing around the Deep Roads and a few insights to how Dorians doing.

Anuira stared at him, Elgar'nan, slack-jawed and eyes wide in shock for a moment before cracking up in hysterical laughter. She laughed so hard she was practically rolling on around in the grass, clutching her cramping stomach as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes.  
Elgar'nan was looking at her like she had gone mad, utterly flabbergasted and a little dismayed by her response. He had expected maybe reverence, disbelief or fear - anything along those lines really - but not this.

Anuira was gasping for air, trying desperately to get her giggling under control so she could apologize to the now annoyed elf, pacing a few steps away, eyeing her with angered confusion from time to time.

Of all the things she had found out since she received the mark of magic, this had to take the prize. She had been shocked to find out there were still ancient immortal Elvhen walking around Thedas. Then Morrigans mother had turned out to be Mythal, whom Anuira was also bound to through the Vir Abelas'an.  
Morrigans son had had the soul of an unknown old god - until Mythal had snatched it away – and Solas had turned out to be Fen'Harel. Then there had been the mystery and beauty of the Eluvians that had taken her to distant memories of places long lost to history.  
As if to top it all off she had found, killed and was playing vessel to yet ancient god. None other than the fabled god of Vengeance, the All Father of Elvhen lore and not to forget the husband to Mythal.

Now if this wasn't irony, she didn't know what was.

"Are you quite done yet?" Elgar'nan growled in frustration, glaring at the still snickering elf who looked more than a little out of breath.

"I… I'm… s …..orry." she gasped between fits of giggle, wiping the tears from her eyes. Elgar'nan just continued his scowling at her with unforgiving golden orbs until she finally collected herself enough to sit back up.

"What in the void is so funny about my name?" he sneered at her where she sat looking at him with mirth still evident in her sea-green eyes. That almost sent her flying into another fit of mad laughter. The mighty Elvhen God of Vengeance, was almost pouting like a child and Anuira had to bite her tongue not to give in to laughter again.

"Ir abelas Ha'hren, it was not you nor your name I was laughing at. It was the irony of the situation I find myself in, yet again." _(I'm sorry Elder…etc)_ she said, firing off one of her blinding smiles that could disarm even the most battlehardened Avvarian warlord.

"You are a strange one." Elgar'nan admitted sternly as he once again scrutinized her. He was intrigued by her. Not many would dare laugh at him in the manner she had just done. There were not even many who would speak to him in the way she did. Manners she had, but she still was not in awe of him, not intimidated in the slightest and that was something he was not accustomed to.

When he asked her to share her story she obliged readily and began telling her story. The story how she came to possess the anchor - or mark of magic as Abelas had called it – and everything that came thereafter about Corypheus, the breach, the Temple of Mythal, the Avvarian God, the Titan in the Deep Roads, Fen'harel, Skyhold and many other things.  
It was not a short story, but in the fade time was relative. One day in the fade could be mere moments in the physical world, and she had the very best help at controlling the fade at her side. The long since imprisoned elven God of Fatherhood and Vengeance.

~.o.O.o.~

The trip to the surface was mainly uneventful save for a few pockets of stray darkspawn here and there. Traveling with Valta and Renn made the deep roads seem like any other mission, any other place in Thedas, surface or no. The uneasiness that had accompanied them during their last mission in the Deep Roads, was none existent. They bantered, laughed and took time to really marvel at the magnificence of the dwarven craftsmanship that was the Deep Roads. Of course they were keeping an ear out for enemies, being sanely observant, but there was no fear.

Renn was ever the battletank, fearless. And now infused with lyrium he was like a dwarven wall of death when he ran towards their enemies in a flurry of axe-swings, booming out his battlecries with his deep voice. And Valta was more than a formidable foe with her newfound abilities that had Anuira marvel in curiosity.

Valta called it 'lyriumblast' and they were just like the once that had nearly taken Anuiras head of on the bridge after defeating the fragment of the Titan. But much more potent. The dwarf couldn't really describe it more than that she could draw on the lyrium imbedded in her and in the rocks around her. However she put it, it still sounded like magic to Anuira and if it was not for one simple thing she would have declared Valta a mage. The dwarf could still not dream, connect to the fade so to speak and the only 'magic' she was able to cast was that specific blueish blast. Either directed through her palms or coming out in a shockwave all around her.

Whatever it was it was powerful, and very damned effective against the occasional darkspawn.

Anuira had tried to coax information out of Elgar'nan and the Vir Abelas'an, but they were staying annoyingly quiet on the subject. She could not help but feel irritated at the fact that the well seemed to obey any command of Elgar'nans and had become increasingly difficult to control.

"Here we part ways." Valta said, stopping at an intersection which in turn snapped Anuira out of her pondering. "You follow this tunnel and you'll be out on the surface in no time."

"Thank you." Anuira said giving the dwarf a warm hug of appreciation, making her cheeks tint slightly with pink. She shook Renn's hand and beamed her brightest smile his way. "May the Stone keep you."

"We'll keep in touch?" Valta said more of a statement than a question.

"Of course!" the elf smiled before turning to face her new direction. She felt both elated and a little apprehensive in returning to the world above. Whatever horrors she faced down here, it was still easier. No burdens of command. No nations looking to her to miraculously fix their blighted problems. Down here, she was just Anuira.  
Sighing she took her first steps towards the light and her awaiting life, love and her friends. She wondered where she'd end up when she emerged from the Deep Roads and turned to her friends again.

"Do you know which part of Thedas this tunnel leads to? I would hate to end up smack dab in the middle of Tevinter." she joked.

"We are somewhere below the Vimmark Mountains." Valta replied, suddenly looking worried. "Will you be ok on your own?"

"I'll manage, don't worry." Anuira smiled and waved one last time before continuing her trek towards the surface.

~.o.O.o.~

Dorian was wandering the campsite of the resistance, checking on security as he tried to keep his mind occupied. He was not sleeping much these days, since the nightmares of his failure still haunted him.  
He had followed the leads of the hinted Tevinter invasion to Hasmal then onwards to Tantervale but he had been too late to do anything for the cities.  
He stumbled onto the plot to kill the Prince of Starkhaven and had to race there to stop it. He only barely made it in time to warn the Prince about the Somnoborium's plans to replace him with a puppet, before they had to flee the assassins overrunning the caste.

Sebastian Vael had proven to be a capable archer and a great leader- if not a tad too dramatically religious and chaste for Dorians taste - but the two got along fairly well. Together with Sebastian and his personal guard they had established a camp for the resistance in the mountains, and they had tried to warn the cities of the east coast. Unfortunately, one by one the cities fell to the 'divide and conquer' technique despite being warned and soon people were pouring in to the small camp from all over the entire Free Marches. Commoners and Nobles alike.

Dorian crouched by a young boy who fell in front of him, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere by the looks of his speed. He brushed the boy off and used what little healing-magic he knew – he had taken the time to learn after Anuiras demise – to heal the boy's scraped knees. Suddenly the boy looked at him in utter horror and began asking forgiveness profusely.

"What are you on about, boy?" Dorian asked cocking an eyebrow at the growling child.

"I'm sorry Messere… it ruined your robes… my blood…" the boy sobbed anxiously, bordering on panicky. Dorian burst out laughing, startling the child enough so he stopped fretting and instead turned to ogling.

"This is no once fault but my own." he pointed to the bloodstains and reassured the boy, patting his head. "Now, why don't you tell me what was so important that it had you running like your pants was on fire?"

The boy looked incredulously at him for a moment before, he jerked to attension. He pointed agitatedly towards the edge of the camp as he spluttered to get the words out in a hurry.

"Something is coming, I saw it! It came out of the mountain!"

Dorian didn't waste a second in getting up, pulling the shocked boy with him. He yanked off his family amulet and gave it to the boy, telling him to show the amulet to the guards and warn the Prince about what he'd seen.  
Dorian himself hurried down the path towards the general direction the boy had pointed. Things coming out of the mountains was rarely a good thing, more often than not it was either bandits, smugglers or worse, darkspawn.

Dorian stopped in his tracks as he saw someone moving behind the rocks a few paces down the path from him. The person was struggling to get up and was soon cursing like a drunken sailor, causing him to smile slightly.  
Well, at the very least it didn't seem like the person could do much harm being stuck that way, so Dorian walked onwards to see if he could lend his assistance.

The person was small, dirty and thinner than should be allowed. A young girl he guessed, barely of age if one took into account her petite frame. Her face was hidden by a tattered cloth hood and she seemed to be struggling to get one of her feet loose.

"Fenedhis! Su an'banal i'ma!" _(Shit! To the void with you!)_ the girl exclaimed exasperated, throwing her meager pack to the ground.

Her voice had Dorian pausing for a second, remembering all the million times he had fooled himself that he had heard his best friend, only to find out the voice was attached to the wrong person. And ultimately all the voices he'd mistaken for hers, always carried the wrong pitch and lacked authority when one listened carefully.

The girl – or elf woman if her language was anything to go by - had spotted him, stopped struggling and was looking his way with her arm resting on her jutting hip in a heartwarmingly familiar gesture. As he smiled to himself he let his hood fall back. It was easier to make people believe you were not going to hurt them when they saw who they were dealing with. And just as he was about to greet her she froze. Dorian stopped on instinct, afraid to scare her.

"Dorian! Isa'ma'lin! Ea son? Un'nuvenan an tamahn!" _(Dorian! Brother! Are you well? I missed you!)_ the words were pouring out of the woman and she didn't even notice that she was speaking in her own tongue.  
She tossed the hood to the wind and he could see her laughing and crying at the same time. She reached for him with her one arm - straining to get her foot out of the blasted hole she'd gotten stuck in when she had gone of the trail to pick some elfroot – but Dorian stood rooted to the spot just beyond reach. Staring at her in disbelief, eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost.

"Asa'ma'lin?" he whispered and Anuira just smiled through her tears, nodding profusely as her hand once again reached for him.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anuira finally makes it out of the deep roads and the world is a bit stunned.

Dorian sank to his knees, tears spilling on to his cheeks without mercy as Anuira finally yanked her foot loose and raced towards the shellshocked mage. A million thoughts warred for control in his mind, everything from _'this is a dream'_ to _'I've finally gone mad'_.  
He opened his arms to catch the tiny elf hurling herself into his arms. Anuira almost melted in his embrace as she breathed in his scent, feeling more secure than she had in weeks.

"How?" Dorian said as he plied the elf off his neck so he could look at her. She was emaciated, dirty and sported several new and horrible scars but never the less, she was alive and right there in the safety of his arms.

"Long story." she smiled, drying her eyes. "I fell into a forgotten Thaig under the Deep Roads. My amulet broke in the fall…"

A discrete cough brought them back to the present. A man with a bow, clad in a white, golden armor was looking expectantly at them.

"Dorian? You know this… elf." Sebastian said, struggling to find words to not offend. He had an arrow nocked and pointed to her in suspicion.  
Anuiras honed battle-instincts kicked in full force at the threat. She flipped herself backwards and unsheathed her dagger, snarling at the person stupid enough to try and keep her away from the closest thing she had to family.

"NO!" Dorian shouted, hurtling himself to his feet to put himself between Sebastian and his sister of sorts. "Da'ean, is arani." _(Little bird, he's my friend.)_

"Ir abelas." _(I'm sorry.)_ She muttered to Dorian, giving the man in the white and golden armor a skeptical once over before relaxing her stance.

"I'm afraid, I'm a bit rusty with formalities after a month trekking through the Deep Roads." she said, still suspiciously eyeing Dorians friend.

"Wait… You're the Inquisitor!" the bowman said in surprise, lowering his bow. A loud murmur erupted from the small group of soldiers behind him, when her identity became known. People were struggling with each other to get a look at her and their features ranged from awe and hope to suspicion.

"Former…" Anuira sighed.

"Yes I suppose that's true. Well, no harm done. My name is Sebastian Vale. Where are your companions then? We were just about to have dinner and you're all more than welcome to join us." the bowman said, flashing a brilliant smile. Anuira's face fell when she was reminded of the friends who didn't make it.

"She's the only one who made it…" Dorian answered in her stead giving Sebastian a lopsided, pained smile.

Sebastian apologized and offered his sympathies before he led their way back to the main camp. Anuira kept close to Dorian and he in turn refused to let her out of his sight, even for a second. In camp people were at gawking Anuira, shuffling to get close in their curiosity to know how she fit in with the Prince of Starkhaven and the Tevinter Magister.

It didn't take long for whispered speculations and rumors about her identity to erupt and Sebastian did what he could to cease the rumors but Anuira told him to just let people know.

"Better they know now, rather than having to cope with rumors gotten out of hand later." she said, matter-of-factly before focusing solely on her plate of mouth-watering food. She had put up with deep mushrooms and deep stalker meat for so long, this meager meal of bread and deer-stew seemed like bliss.

After getting some food into her stomach, Dorian took her to the small pond with the waterfall that had been one of the main reasons they had chosen this place for a camp.

Anuira didn't even bat an eye at the fact that the water was as chilly as the mountain-climate. She had been hardened as a child, wandering the wilderness of these very mountains with her clan. And getting the chance to bathe was a luxury that sent her heart soaring.  
She ignored the fact that Dorian was still there, probably set on staying and the rumors that would inevitably spread due to this. Stripping down to her smallclothes she contently waded into the water to clean off weeks of dirt and grime.

Dorian winced at the sight of the jagged scars decorating her body, healed badly without magic or aid of any kind. There was a long reddish purple scar along her left front thigh, another on her right arm – all the way from her shoulder down to her elbow – and she had several smaller nicks all over her body. As the elf emerged from under the water, with her hair slicked backwards, he could also see the angry scar along her right lobe disappearing into her hair.

Anuira caught his worried, pained gaze and smiled gently.

"Ar son, isa'ma'lin, tel'geal." _(I'm ok brother, don't worry.)_ she said warmly as she shed the last of her clothes under water, washing herself and her small-clothes completely before getting up. She was shivering slightly from the cold water and the chilled mountain air, as she pulled on the new clothes brought to her by Dorian.

"What happened in the Deep Roads?" Dorian suddenly asked with a pained expression, caressing her arm and tracing the angry scar found there.  
Anuira sighed, tied her leggings and pulled on her tunic before nestling herself in the mage's arms to tell her story.

It was well into nighttime when she reached the end of the tale, where she had blundered and gotten stuck in a hole as she was picking elfroot in preparation for her evening tea.  
They both sat in silence for a long moment, in the light of the small fire Dorian held going with magic. Not once had he interrupted or even inquired more information. He had just listened as Anuira got it all out of her chest, drying the tears that sometimes fell.

He knew she was scared of the 'abomination'-part but he honestly didn't care. Dorian still trusted her with his life and if she said this spirit was the elven god Elgar'nan, then as far as he was concerned, it was.  
He hugged her tighter, wrapping her in his cloak and felt her relax as the silent understanding flowed from him to her.  
It didn't take long until the tired Anuira fell asleep in his arms, leaving him to marvel at this tiny creature's ability to survive through thick and thin.

"She trusts you explicitly." He suddenly heard her say as she stirred, but something was off. He gripped his staff in a hurry as he tried to discern the nature of this voice.

"Don't fret. I don't usually make a habit out of controlling one who has so graciously allowed me save harbor and helped me escape doom and certain death. But I had to make an exception this time." Anuira's warped voice said as her body moved, slowly to sit across from him.  
Dorian eyed the elf with suspicion but was not as closed minded as most people in the south. He knew well that some spirits was not evil and some abominations, if one chose to call them that, could merge seamlessly with each other.

"Then you have something of importance to share I assume?" Dorian inquired.

"I meant no offense, but this is of great importance. Her trust is rare but I have sensed she trusts you more than anyone." Elgar'nan put a smile on Anuiras face.

"And if she does, so do you then?" Dorian wondered warily.

"Yes." Elgar'nan said, as he directed the eyes of his borrowed body towards the fire. "I am indeed Elgar'nan, as she told you… And as I said, I will not hurt her, quite the opposite in fact. But she's going to need your help."

"Oh? With what pray tell?" Dorian shot back in surprise, raising his head fully to meet the gaze of Elgar'nan.

"She is, for some reason beyond my understanding, an I've'an'virelan. What you Tevinters call a somniari." Elgar'nan said, pausing to let the mage process the information.

Dorian couldn't believe his ears. First off, the somniari's was supposed to be more or less extinct. And second, one had to be born with the gift.  
Anuira had told him she'd lost her mother as she gave birth to Anuira, her father had raised her and she'd been a hunter since she was thirteen. She had never displayed any talents for magic in her years until she gained the anchor, though she had been fiercely curious and thus become rarely knowledgeable about it.

"I know you doubt, as did I. But the fact remains that she has the power to lock even me out of her dreams and mind, as well as enter other people's dreams." Elgar'nan continued as he watched the words sink into Dorians mind. He saw the mage connecting dots with information Elgar'nan was lacking and hoped that together they would be able to help Anuira.

"I taught her…" Dorian whispered incredulously. "I showed her how to enter people's dreams! But that was before she lost the mark and her arm with it!"

"Some of the magic still lingers and for yet another mysterious reason, she can even draw on my powers at will. Though she doesn't do it consciously." Elgar'nan mused seriously.

"So what does this entail exactly?" Dorian asked as he managed to wrap his head around the idea of his best friend going against nature and developing mage-abilities at her age.

"It means that regardless of what gifts she was born with, she is now mage and a powerful one at that. I can teach her but I cannot protect nor comfort her, and the rest of the world will not be as understanding as you about her, _situation_." Elgar'nan concluded.

"I will always be here for her." Dorian said in genuine warmth. "A word of advice though. She likes things her way… and she's as stubborn as a high dragon."

"I've noticed." Elgar'nan chuckled before leaving Anuira's sleeping body in the arms of Dorian once more.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anuiras second day back on the surface. How does one handle impending doom and the drama of having been concidered dead?

Waking up, she found herself comfortably tucked into a bedroll as rays of sunshine played hide and seek with the tent-flap. Dorian must have moved her after she had fallen asleep in his arms during the night.  
She blinked against the light a moment until her eyes adjusted. Propping herself up on one elbow, she examined her surroundings while rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

Dorian was sprawled next to her, still sleeping seemingly peaceful with his black hair in an uncharacteristic disarray. His face was turned away from her, buried into his pillow and his blanket was curled tightly around him.  
One arm was peeking out from under his blanket, slung over her torso and it slid down to her lap as she sat up. He jerked awake in second at the movement, whipping his head to face her as he clutched her sheets in sheer reflex. She met his eyes in confusion and saw a panic and sadness there that sent shivers of icy guilt down her spine.

"On dhea, lethal'lin. Tel'geal, ar amahn i ar son." _(Good morning, kin blood *****_ _Don't worry, I'm here and I am well.)_ Anuira said softly, reaching out to touch his cheek to comfort him. She wasn't prepared for his unusual display of emotions and squeaked rather ungracefully when he drew her into a hard, almost desperate hug. Anuira didn't question, she only hugged him back until Dorian seemed to have reassured himself that she was real, and was not going to evaporate into thin air.

"How about some breakfast before meeting with Sebastian?" Dorian said as he stretched, his usually exuberant tone was back and so was his adorable witty smile. The spark in his eyes was still somewhat lacking but Anuira took what she could get at the moment.

Her time in the deep roads might not exactly have been a picknick and had offered death around almost every bend, but at least she had hope and wonderful things to strive towards. The people left on the surface had mourned her and buried her during her absence. And now, they were going to have to all of a sudden come to terms with the fact that she was alive. It couldn't be easy, she thought.  
Dorian and his unwavering trust and loyalty was something she was very grateful for. But she was not so certain everyone would share in his sentiment.

"Sound perfect. And then I need to write to Cullen." she said nervously as they got ready to meet the day. "How is he?"

Dorian's silence spoke volumes about Cullen's state of being and the nervousness and apprehension spread wider in Anuiras mind. What if she was not welcomed back? What if he had moved on?  
The thought almost crushed her and she had to sit down to gather her strength for a moment. Dorian patted her shoulder in support as she concentrated on breathing in and out for a while, before getting up and shoving all the unpleasant thoughts aside.

She would cross that river when she came to it. No use in worrying needlessly.

Breakfast was as mouth-watering as dinner the past evening and she wolfed it down without regard for female etiquette making people ogle her. Some with eyes pleading and full of hope, others in awe or surprise. Some was even hostile and Dorian could feel the uncomfortableness rising in his friend.  
She had always hated to bear the burden of everyone's expectations and now – even though she was supposed to be liberated from the responsibility – people were still looking to her to save them.  
Dorian made one of his dramatic comments to lighten the mood and people started snickering, bantering and laughing heartily around the fire. The pregnant air around them dissipated and Anuira smiled gratefully at him, winked and went back to her food.

The meeting with Sebastian put Anuira in a very foul mood. She knew Tevinter had something sinister brewing but the news of the invasion and the lack of allies due to insufficient evidence, still caught her off guard and made her spit profanities in her anger. Sebastian blushed slightly at her colorful speech and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Why haven't you sent word to anyone for help?" she complained bitterly.

"What would you have us tell them? Hmm?" Dorian shot back in annoyance.  
"The Tevinter imperium is taking over the world by trade?  
There is no army so far. No fighting. Only agreements made and people fleeing the new leaders. They learned well from the cock-up in Highever. The attack on Starkhaven was the first real offence and there is a runner on his way to Kirkwall as we speak as well as several birds to Skyhold, Val Royeaux and Denerim. We have also seen fit to warn Antiva and Rivain but through less official channels."

"What about Nevarra?" Anuira asked, not sounding at all hopeful as she clenched the table with her fingers until her knuckles whitened. This was not what she had fought her way through the deep roads for.

"Nevarra seems to have a pact with the extremists I'm afraid." Sebastian said, sighing in defeat.  
"According to Josephine Montilyet the Crows are making Antiva stay out of the fight until they know which way the wind is blowing. And Isabela, an acquaintance of Varrics, tells us Rivain is claiming neutrality but we think they too might have a deal with the somnoborium. Or they are waiting it out as the Crows are."

"Great, so we have a hand full of armed soldiers and a mountain full of refugees to stop a full scale invasion…" Anuira sighed tiredly, rubbing her forehead with her only hand.

"Out of the ashes and into the fire! Just like old times." Dorian scoffed sarcastically "OH, and welcome back by the way..."

"I should have stayed in the deep roads…" she muttered, spinning on her heel to leave the Prince's tent.

"Wait! We need to come up with a plan, anything to slow them down. I need you to ..." Sebastian said urgently making the elf paus in her retreat.

" **NO!** I am **not** your last line of defense… Not anymore! I can't pull miracles out of thin air!" Anuira snarled, spinning to face the shocked Prince with a dangerous scowl.

"Now, if you'll excuse me for being, _inconvenient_ , I have a fiancé to inform of my being alive." She spat and Sebastian looked like he wanted to disappear, stuttering apologizes until she was out of hearing range. He had been so absorbed in his own needs that he completely forgot that she was supposed to be dead but wasn't and thus probably had a million things to deal with herself.

Writing the letter to Cullen proved harder than she could ever have imagined. How did one go about telling the one you love that they'd mourned you and been through hell, for nothing? She felt guilty for not being able to ease his pain and for not making it out of the deep roads sooner. Then she remembered his dream, the dream she'd stumbled upon and his refusal to believe her. That memory stung bitterly and reminded her that she had no idea how Cullen would react to her being alive. Not to mention her unique situation with a certain elf being.

She decided to only write the most necessary before attaching the note to a bird and releasing it.

_"_ _Cullen,_

_I'm alive. Long story, explain later. I'm with Dorian and the Prince of Starkhaven in the Vimmark Mountains. Somnoborium invasion ongoing. Need you!_

_/Anuira"_


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's the new guy? And who is it Anuira meets in the fade?

Idrillas was running like a madman down the stairs from the old spymaster's chambers. It was still used for receiving and sending birds and it was Idrillas chore to at least twice a day look after the bird and check for as well as send messages.  
This evening an enchanted crow had arrived with a message in an old cipher. As he decoded it he felt his entire being go into chock. Three times he checked his cipher for faults before he dared believe the message and set off to Cullen's office.

Idrillas had managed to crawl his way to Skyhold after months of recuperating - both his memory and physical health - after escaping the brutal slaughter of clan Lavellan. He had been taken in by very sympathetic blended human, elven family and by the time he left he swore to find a way to repay them. Idrillas had set out to find the Inquisitor – his only family left alive - to apply for a job but by the time he had finally been able to get to Skyhold, it was almost empty as the Inquisitor had left for Highever.

Then had come the news of her demise and even though he had been heartbroken he had been humbled by the deep sorrow and respect the people of Skyhold showed the Inquisitor.  
When Cullen had arrived back at Skyhold Idrillas had asked to stay on. Mostly because he had nowhere else to go, barefaced rebellion as he was - even in his own clan everyone had more or less shunned him, except for Anuira - but also he needed the money to repay the kind family that took him in.

Now this message had arrived, from none other than Anuira herself. She had cheated death once more and he could feel his heart soar with pride.

Idrillas slammed open the door from the rotunda to the walkway leading to Cullen's office. The man had been more dead than alive since arriving back from Highever. Barely eating or sleeping and always grouchier than a bear after hibernation.  
This message, however, was bound to put some fire back in those beautiful ember eyes belonging to that yummy ex-templar.

Idrillas sighed and cursed his luck. He always ended up with one-sided crushes, mostly because he preferred men and even if it was not frowned upon, it was not exactly encouraged among his clan. His rebellion of refusing to get a Vallaslin didn't exactly help his case and Anuira had always been the only one never to judge him.

Finaly he reached the door to the Commanders quarters and started banging profusely. Idrillas heard violent cursing before the door flew open to reveal a huge pissed off blond mess of a man.

"What!" Cullen growled as he scowled at the tiny whitehaired elf.

"World-shatteringly important..." Idrillas panted as he waved the message in front of Cullen.

~.o.O.o.~

Anuira found herself wandering the woods of the Free Marches. She was wandering aimlessly, meeting her family here and there. Helping, hunting or trading.  
She knew she was in the fade since her family were all long gone, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She missed them dearly and if this was the only way to meet them again, then she would enjoy it while she could.  
Her wanderings took her further and further from the places one would normally have found her clan and suddenly Anuira found herself standing in a sunlit forest clearing with luscious green grass under a clear blue sky. She laid down to soak in the sun, enjoying her solitude, when her thoughts were all disturbed by the wells annoying voices.

"Es'an enal... ha eolas..." _(They're coming… old knowledge…)_ they chanted as they made themselves visible, billowing around her. Sighing she sat up to see what in the name of the Creators they were talking about. In front of her stood the familiar faces of Geal and Harel, looking straight back at her where she sat cross-legged in the soft grass.

They didn't speak, only looked at her in clear surprise before turning back to ravens in a flurry of smoke and hurrying off into the forest. She sat staring after them for a moment, wondering what had their wings in a twist before getting up to continue her walk. If they wanted to be cryptic and confuse her, they had succeeded but she would not take the obvious bait. They were, after all demons –or hostile spirits - and were not to be trusted.

The rustling of leafs and a load gasp interrupted her thought process and she whipped her head to see who was there.

"Ma rosem?!" _(You survived?!)_ A familiar, silvery voice said in awe and surprise. Anuira found the elf standing under the huge oak once again. One hand was touching the stem off the tree while the other hung by his side, his hood was down, showing of his stunning features and his forest-green eyes was focused on her.

"An'daran atish'an arani." _(Greetings my friend.)_ Anuira said politely, firing off her blinding smile towards the slightly stunned blond elf. So that was what the blighted creatures had gone of to. Tattling to this elven spirit of her visit. Well maybe she shouldn't complain as he was better and more interesting company than the hostile spirits he kept as friends.

"I didn't think anyone could survive such wounds..." the elf said carefully, walking closer as he studied her. One hand touched the still angry scar on her temple and the other grabbed her hand as if to see if she would dissipate at the touch. She didn't back away at the curiosity of the spirit elf, but she was puzzled and watched him a bit warily.

"Neither did I, but this one is stubborn as a high dragon." A rumbling deep voice said from Anuira's left, making the blond elf's eyes go wide.

"An'daran atisha'n Ha'hren." Anuira said almost automatically, turning to meet the golden gaze of Elgar'nan. He was a powerful sight to behold in the fade, radiating both power and knowledge. The elf in front of her dropped her hand and withdrew from her as she heard his breath catch.

"Babae?!" _(Father?!)_ the elf choked breathlessly and Anuira's head spun at the word.

"Vin, da'len." _(Yes, [male]child.)_ Elgar'nan answered.

"Ahn?!" _(What?!)_ Anuira exclaimed loudly, looking between the two males.

"Tel ea…" _(It can't be…)_ Dirthamen whispered meeting the golden eyes of Elgar'nan, seemingly not registering Anuira's outburst.

"She saved my life." Elgar'nan said, looking over to Anuira who was still staring between them in disbelief. He continued on with how Anuira had ended up harboring his spirit and as the story came to a close, the seemingly young blond male took her hand again, shaking it and thanking her profusely.

"Dirthamen?" Anuira cocked a brow and her voice came out stern and a little accusing. She could see the blond elf nod and almost shrink at the tone.

His identity was not hard to figure out once he had called Elgar'nan 'father'. Geal and Harel only answered to one person, and if this elf was the son of Elgar'nan and also wielded the loyalty of the pests known as Geal and Harel, he could be none other than Dirthamen. Fabled elvhen god of knowledge and secrets.

"You didn't think this was something important enough to tell me?" She continued, glaring daggers at the now squirming blond elf. Anuira couldn't help but feel a little betrayed at the fact he had let her make a fool of herself, gushing over him being the 'odd' spirit and making all the wrong assumptions. She almost cringed inwardly at how naïve she must have seemed.

"I didn't think you'd believe me." He amended giving her a small, almost shy smile that lit up his entire face. That small smile made him go from stunning to heart-stoppingly beautiful and Anuira felt her breath catch at the sight. Forgetting her irritation, she beamed her own smile back at him on sheer instinct.

The three of them settled on the grass - Geal and Harel watched from their perch in the huge oak - and fell into conversation.  
Getting news from the physical realm was quite hard and Dirthamen seemed like an exited child when he eagerly soaked up every bit of information Anuira and Elgar'nan brought.  
Anuira found out about the elven pantheon, how they had become imprisoned and their physical bodies buried, sleeping under ground. Some in their transformed shape, like Elgar'nan. She also learned that not all shapeshifted into dragons like Mythal and Elgar'nan. Fen'harel preferred wolf, obviously, Falon'din had preferred falcons or eagles and Ghilan'nain always chose Halla.

Dirthamen was intrigued by the fact that Anuira was undoubtedly an I've'an'virelan _(Fade walker)_ and eagerly helped explain what it entailed to be one. How she could bend the fade to her will, form the dreams of others and herself and dream very lucidly.  
The two inquired as to why Anuira had never been tempted by demons, why she hadn't had the usual troubles that fade walkers usually had when coming into their gift and she had to think back to all the dreams she could remember.

"I don't know. I guess I was never afraid and I always believed I should find my own way. There might not have been room for them to lure me since I always believed in self-reliance." she began thoughtfully.

"Hey, you could just delve into my mind and see for yourself right?" she continued, looking questioningly at Dirthamen.

"I could… but what would you require in return?" He said hesitantly, instantly becoming reserved and Anuira looked at him in confusion.

"Require? Why would I require anything?" She asked a bit annoyed that he thought so little of her as to ask for things in return for him doing her a favor.

"You'd be doing me a favor and I require nothing other than that."

Elgar'nan couldn't help the smirk creeping up on his features. He already knew well of the stubbornness, selflessness and generosity the elven woman displayed, even if it were often unconsciously and albeit sometimes very begrudgingly. She had a will of steel to match her stubborn-streak as well as her temper and she hid the kind heart of a child in her chest. This was not something Dirthamen was used to, none of the Evanuris was.

Dirthamen looked like he'd been struck by lightning. He had lived his whole long life learning to always bargain, to seek out the best deal and never trusting anyone. Everyone always wanted the knowledge he had but seldom wanted to pay for it. Not even his beloved twin, Falon'din, had ever tried to broker a fair deal with him. Much less a deal free of charge. He had always had to guard his heart as well as his knowledge and Anuira was now turning his entire world upside down.

Elgar'nan chuckled, his son needed this reminder of selflessness. They all did. Maybe this young shemlen _(quick blood)_ elf was the one to point the way back to a more peaceful era.

"Dirth gaelathe, te'telsila ash." _(She speaks truth, don't annoy her.)_ Elgar'nan smirked at Dirthamen, who was still lost for words and stared suspiciously at Anuira. She in turn, was beginning to anger at the unspoken accusation and leaned closer to the blond elf until she was looming over him in growing anger.

Dirthamen was used to people fawning over him in awe, clamoring to gain his favor or fleeing from him in terror. This fearlessness was new to him and it puzzled him that this tiny, mortal elf didn't even flinch in his or his father's presence. She spoke to them like equals, demanded their respect and seemed not to care about neither their gifts nor their approval.

He scowled. Having to wrap his mind around the fact that she offered him a part of her, **for free** , was harder than anything he had tried in a very long time.  
And her closeness. Her nose almost meeting his own as her sea-green eyes held his in an angered glare, was even harder to process.  
Dirthamen felt trapped, unused to closeness as he was and he wanted nothing more than to retreat. But closing his eyes or moving even an inch was impossible. Anuira was as captivating as a predator zooming in on its prey and all he could do was stare.

"Ma solasathe dahn'direlan[1]! Viras lasa adahl su nar masa!" _(You prideful idiot! Go shove a tree up your ass!)_ She growled at him, grabbing his collar to lift him to her level and hindering him from backing away further.  
Dirthamen's eyes went wide and his mouth hung slack from disbelief as he looked between Anuira's angered features to her impossibly strong hand grabbing his black robe until her knuckles whitened.

"Te' **gyas** tuna em nuven!" _(Don't you_ _ **dare**_ _accuse me of greed!)_ She hissed before letting him go with a light shove, landing him flat on his back.  
His mind was staggering at the realization of what had just occurred. He didn't know how to react so he looked to his father for guidance.

"Un'dirthan, da'len. Te'telsila ash." _(I told you, child. Don't annoy her.)_ Elgar'nan chuckled at the chocked elf now propped on one elbow. Dirthamen's wide-eyed gaze turned back to the still fuming female sitting a few feet away pointedly looking away from him.

 

* * *

[1] Dahn'direlan = One who punches bees / Bee puncher.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Cullen recieve the news of Anuira's survival and how did it go with Dirthamen and Elgar'nan in the fade?

Cullen angrily yanked the parchment out of Idrillas' hands, shooting the white-haired, panting elf one last bitter scowl before settling his eyes on the words scribbled on the small piece of paper. A frown slowly spread over his features before turning into confusion and then shock. Sinking to his knees, he read the message over and over again.  
His heart was on the verge of stopping, his lungs screamed in protest as he forgot to breathe and his mind was racing a mile a minute, trying desperately to grasp the meaning of this short, to-the-point message.

_"_ _Cullen,_

_I'm alive. Long story, explain later. I'm with Dorian and the Prince of Starkhaven in the Vimmark Mountains. Somnoborium invasion ongoing. Need you!_

_/Anuira"_

"She... she's... alive?" Cullen whispered stutteringly, never taking his eyes of the piece of parchment in his hand. He looked like a man about to break into a million pieces and Idrillas didn't dare speak. He settled for putting a hand on the fragile ex-templar's shoulder in an effort to show support.

"Makers breath..." Cullen sighed heavily, his voice gaining volume and warmth as he ran his hand through his messy hair.

"I don't know how she does it but... yes. She's alive." Idrillas said carefully. Afraid to draw Cullen's anger or breaking him in his unnerved state. Cullen lowered the parchment into his lap and turned his eyes to meet the elf's.

"She's alive!" He exclaimed and was on his feet in seconds, whisking up the tiny bundle of elf in a hug and spinning him around in circles.

"Thank the Maker...Creators... whoever!" He laughed before coming to his senses. Clearing his throat, he calmed himself and put down the now blushing elf.  
His eyes was once again sparkling with hope, albeit a little dimmed by uncertainty but it still made Cullen look more alive than he had been since Anuira's disappearance. Idrillas secretly thanked the Creators for having been the one able to bring the news that changed those deadened eyes into those lovely deep embers now sparkling in the face of the man in front of him.

"You knew her, from before the breach I mean?" Cullen asked suddenly - the elf was still blushing, squirming and looking stiffly down at his feet - and started a little at the question.

"Y... yes. We were family... or rather shared a family-bond through membership of clan Lavellan." Idrillas stuttered as he desperately tried to calm his raging blush.

"Well then, you better get ready to travel. She would flay me alive if I didn't bring you along." Cullen said giving Idrillas a crooked smile.

"We leave tonight!"

~.o.O.o.~

Anuira was soaking in the chilly waters below the waterfall, shivering slightly from being in the water for so long, but she needed to clear her mind.

She had reacted a bit harshly towards Dirthamen's unspoken insinuation of greed a couple of nights ago. Even going so far as to insult and manhandle him. Granted he had deserved a tongue-lashing for being a pompous idiot but she had taken it too far. She had no idea why she was cranky all the time, or why her temper flared at the most inopportune times and no matter how much she slept she was always tired. She knew she had a temper but despite her efforts of self-control it was now more than a little volatile.

It had been nearly a week since she learned of Dirthamen and she had spent every sleeping moment with him and Elgar'nan in the fade, practicing her magic and talking about everything coming to mind. Dirthamen had even learned to trust her enough to share her mind on some subjects and he still marveled at the fact that she didn't ask for anything in return. Anuira had tried to explain to him that she gained so much by just talking to him and Elgar'nan and that she deemed it more than payment enough, but the infuriating elf still gushed over her selflessness every chance he got.

During her time in the fade she learned that the Evanuris was not only captives in the fade, they also couldn't move freely there. The only way to communicate was through spirit messengers and most spirits had to short attention-span to be of any use. Messages between the family-members where scarce and far in between. Geal and Harel had been no use at all since they were bound to Dirthamen and therefor suffered his fate along with him.  
Fade walkers were the only ones able to break the imprisonment and even that was only temporary until the mage went back to the mortal world.

This was the reason why Geal and Harel had showed such interest in Anuira when she suddenly stumbled into their little patch of the fade. When she had continued to come back they had of course notified Dirthamen about the occurrences and from then on it had been a waiting game until Dirthamen made himself known.  
She was the first person to interest him since his brother was ripped from him and Anuira's visits quickly became the only light in his endless days. Her wounds had shocked him to the core and he mourned her after she left that time since he was certain she would not make it.

Sighing she unwrapped herself from her reminiscing and cursed the stress that was making her lash out on the fragile soul that was Dirthamen. He was one of the kindest souls she'd meet since Cole even if he could appear stuck up at times.  
Her thoughts fell to Cole and she wondered for a moment were the little sprite had gone off to. She worried for him since she hadn't seen him for weeks and she might have to try and find him soon, if he didn't show up.  
Suddenly she felt tired to the bone as searching the fade for one lost spirit was not something to look forward to. She sighed again and thought about needing a vacation, preferably in the warm, strong arms of a certain blond, handsome swordsman.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and she swam to the edge of the pool to greet the only one ever to be let past the guards as she took her baths.

"Savh isa'ma'lin, g'on?" _(Hi brother, what's up?)_ She said even without looking up.

"Oh you know, the usual. Chantry-boy is trying to convert the blasphemous mage from his wicked ways!" Dorian snarked before sitting down with his back towards the elf, heaving a heavy sigh.  
Sebastian had become increasingly annoying with his preaching's since she had arrived in the camp. She was a Dalish elf and Dorian a Tevinter magister who preferred men, this was something the former Chantry-brother had a very hard time letting go off and both Anuira and Dorian was fed up to the point of murder.

"Awww, my poor little dragon. Want your scary little elf to talk the pesky chantry-boy straight?" Anuira snickered as she got up, drying herself off and getting dressed.

"That man is already painfully straight!" Dorian laughed before turning to look at the now decent elf.

"You're finally looking yourself again, even gained some extra weight I see." He said warmly and teasingly poked her stomach when she tied her leggings as best she could with her one hand. Anuira laughed with him and swatted at his hand playfully before the second meaning of the banter hit her, making her freeze mid-movement.

She started frantically counting on her fingers with a panicked expression plastered to her face. Dorian looked anxiously at her for a moment until the revelation of his own words and her counting sunk in.

"Andraste have mercy... You're pregnant..." he voiced the words she couldn't. Her face hardened as her emerald eyes found his and he could see the fear and her silent plea.

" **No one** is to know!" she choked out.

"What are you going to do?" Dorian asked hesitantly, meeting her now confused emerald gaze.

"I... I don't know..." she mumbled, shutting her eyes and rubbing her forehead.

At least now she knew why she was testy beyond reason. And now she knew why Elgar'nan had been so protective when they had practiced her magic in the fade the last couple of nights.

~.o.O.o.~

"With what army?! We can't just throw ourselves at the enemy and hope for the best!" Anuira all but screamed at the blighted archer.

"Well we have to do **something**!" Sebastian retorted angrily, slamming his fist into the table.

The two minds had been in a deadlock all day. Sebastian pressing for a stealth-attack while Anuira favored waiting for reinforcements. Varric's arrival together with Merrill and Hawke had only disrupted the quarrel momentarily and soon they had been at each other's throats again.  
The three newcomers had silently shuffled outside and were now eating dinner alongside a sighing Dorian while the two stubborn rouges butted heads in the make-belief war-room.

"I've **been there** already you flea-bitten nug-humper! And I have no intension of trying my luck against those blighted Somnoborium again without an army of bows, knives, swords, shields and staffs at my back!" Anuira growled at the equally frustrated man on the opposite side of the table.

" **You** wouldn't have to! **I** will go!" Sebastian shot back.

"And you would die! **No**! Not on my watch!" Anuira howled.

"You **know** reinforcements are on their way! Skyhold, Ferelden, Orlais, even Orzammar. They are all sending every last troop they can spare!" she continued angrily.

"But it'll be weeks before they are **here** and ready to strike!" Sebastian said exasperated.

Dorian sighed heavily, shaking his head at the quarrel. What was it? The thirteenth time they came around this particular bend? Next Sebastian would try to argue that the situation was not anything like what Anuira and her team had ventured into, and Anuira would argue the opposite. Soon they would lapse into another round of spitting the same lines at each other and each time Anuira got a little more colorful in her speech and Sebastian a little more exasperated.

"The similarities are endless; wouldn't you say?" Varric smirked over at Merrill who immediately snickered lightly beside Hawke.

"Implying something dwarf?" Hawke muttered glaring at Varric who only held up his hands to signal his yielding.

"Merely pointing out the obvious." He said, smiling cockily at the blond mage.

"You two got along about as well as Broody and Blondie. And from the looks of things... so are they." Varric continued pointing to the tent with his thumb.

"You're probably right." Hawke chuckled before turning to his son to offer a piece of his bread. The boy's eyes went wide with joy as he took the offered bread and hugged his father.

The young boy was a spitting image of his father except he had his mother's deep green eyes and slightly pointed ears.

When Anuira stormed out of the tent a few steps away from the fire were they were all sitting, the boy started slightly. He looked at Anuira with wide-eyes as she snarled in elven and stalked off towards the bathing-area.

"Babae..." the boy said quietly, tugging at Hawke's sleeve.

"She sound like mamae when you take me hunting." the boy stated, looking curiously back towards where Anuira had disappeared. Everyone went dead-silent before breaking out into boisterous laughing. Merrill turned beetroot-red and mumbled something under her breath as she slapped her husband on the arm.

"You're right she does sound like your mom when she's angry." Hawke said still laughing as he ruffled the boy's hair.

"Well, I better go talk to her before she decides to murder our esteemed Prince." Dorian snickered as he got up to follow Anuira.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something brewing outside Starkhaven and finally, Cullen and Anuira find there way back to each other.
> 
> Smut in the end of the chapter.

The boat trip over the unusually calm Waking Sea had taken forever and Cullen was itching to get ashore. The gangplank had no more than hit the ground before he was dragging Idrillas off the boat in a hurry.

Two scouts were waiting for them at the docks in Kirkwall and approached as soon as they disembarked.

"Messere Rutherford?" The woman-scout asked as she approached.

"Who's asking?" Cullen shot back, instantly wary as his hands went to his sword. Idrillas was standing a little to the side behind the ex-templar and had his bow ready and arrow nocked in seconds in a knee-jerk reaction to Cullen's suspicion.  
The two scouts instantly but inconspicuously drew their weapons in preparation before nervously handing over a folded piece of sealed parchment.  
Idrillas didn't take his eyes of the scouts as Cullen accepted and read the message. Even if the ex-templar was suspicious by nature Idrillas was worse. He didn't trust humans as far as he could throw them and with good reason.

Idrillas remembered the bloodbath in Wycome like it was yesterday, the nobles of the Free Marchers refusing to listen to reason until every elf in sight was lying in a pool of their own blood. Men, women and children alike.  
Not even the negotiator for the Inquisition had been able to make them see sense until it was hopelessly too late. The blighted cretins had then feigned surprise and horror at the 'terrible misunderstanding' but Idrillas didn't believe them even for a second. The humans had seen an opportunity to get rid of the pests known as elves and had taken the chance gladly.

As far as Idrillas was concerned humans were not to be trusted until they had proven him wrong, like Cullen had. He would work with them out of necessity but trust them, that he didn't do.

"Then let's go." Cullen said after reading the note given to him by the scouts as he signaled a 'stand down'. Idrillas slowly and begrudgingly complied and all weapons were sheathed as the group of four made their way through the streets of Kirkwall towards Sundermount.

Cullen had some nasty memories of Kirkwall and did his very best not to think of the bloodbath at the Gallows. Thank the Maker for the Champions intervention. Without him Kirkwall would have fallen under Meredith's madness and no one would have been the wiser until it would have been far too late. Even after all he had witnessed at the Ferelden circle he could not find it in his heart to believe what happened in Kirkwall to be justified.  
Bad people was not exclusively found among mages, and contrary to popular believes among mages, bad people was not exclusively templar's either. Anuira had done what she could to restore trust between the two but fear still sparked conflict.

Cullen himself was still very uncomfortable among mages and he was, to his own disgust, glad when the mark of magic had been ripped from his lover. He had never told her this and he was ashamed for it, but he just couldn't help his deadly fear of magic. He'd seen too much, lived through too much and all he wanted was some normalcy. The guilt of having secretly thanked the Maker when Anuira lost the mark, had been eating him alive since she disappeared. He knew that with the mark she would never had lost and that knowledge haunted him.  
He had been happy she lost the **one thing** , that would have kept her safe and he had been certain the Maker had taken her from him because of it.

Now the Maker saw fit to grace him the return of his love and he would not waste it!

~.o.O.o.~

The day had begun giving way to night as Dorian made his way towards Anuira, standing on a platform a few ways away to the west of the camp, overlooking almost the entire Wildervale.  
When the mist was not covering the wilderness below, one could even see the outline of the city of Starkhaven from this position.  
This evening the wilderness was free of mist and there was more to see than just the distant lights of Starkhaven. There was a growing campsite just outside the city, one belonging to the Tevinter supremacists.

"Ea son, da'ean?" _(Are you ok, little bird?)_ Dorian asked as he came up behind the elf.

"Din…" _(No…)_ She whispered, not turning to look at him.

"Look at them all Dorian! Sebastian is right… We should attack, since the reinforcements will soon have trouble getting through the vale without getting overrun… But I can't bring myself to send people to certain death…" Anuira was still facing away from him but Dorian was fairly certain he knew she was near tears. She would probably not shed them but they were there, falling freely inside her soul at the powerlessness she no doubt felt.

"Da'ean… It is not your fault, nor is it your responsibility to fix the mess **my** countrymen felt necessary to throw at us. If anyone's to blame it should be me…" Dorian said calmly as he let his arms go around the tiny elf for support, leaning his chin on her head.

"You are not responsible for the acts of those blighted cretins. You are better than they could ever hope to be in five lifetimes!" Anuira spat as she put her hand on his arm going around her shoulders, squeezing lightly.  
Dorian chuckled and shared a moments peaceful quiet with his best friend as they both stared at the gathering masses on the plains of Wildervale.

"Messere Lavellan?" a careful voice quietly called from somewhere near the almost hidden entrance to this particular area.

"Messere Pavus?" the voice continued in confusion.

"We best make our way back lest they think we fell of the mountain." Dorian sighed and Anuira nodded before asking for a moment alone. Dorian smiled at her before disappearing behind the rocky bend towards the camp.

Anuira stayed contemplating her options as her gaze swept the vale below her again and again. Elgar'nan and her were in agreement that the only option to stay the invasion was to follow through with Sebastian's plan until the reinforcements came, but they were also in agreement on the fact that the group sent as a diversion of sorts, was doomed never to return.  
Elgar'nan as well as Dirthamen was opposed to her leading the diversion but Anuira felt she couldn't knowingly send people to their deaths without their consent and if they knew they wouldn't make it, they would fall all the quicker.

To hide the fact that the diversion-team was most likely going to die, she had to go with them. They would fight tooth and nail if she did, but she was scared to put herself in that position.

There was someone else, someone she refused to consciously acknowledge but who still invaded her mind. The life now growing inside of her. Could she gather up the strength to survive? To protect them both even in the face of such overwhelming odds? Could she muster the courage to risk both their lives for the sake of Thedas? Would Cullen let her?

The depressing thoughts running in circles in her head and chasing their own tails, was interrupted by a familiar deep male voice. She started as she heard it call her name and she looked around in confusion. She was certain she was still awake but the voice belonged to someone only found in the fade. Her mind raced as she stepped away from the edge and towards the sound of the voice.

"Anuira? Lethal'lan?" the male called as Anuira came around the bend to stand face to face with a ghost of her past.

"Idrillas?!" She gasped as she laid eyes on the white-haired younger and barefaced elf. His head whipped around to face her and as recognition dawned he smiled wide before catching her in a warm familiar embrace.

" 'Ma halla! I've missed you…" Idrillas whispered as he burrowed his face into her shoulder.

"Da'assan, thu ane inal? Un'nuvenan an tamahn! Ea son?" _(Little arrow, how are you alive? I missed you! Are you well?)_ Anuira said, half in shock as she plied the male off to look at him.

"Lethal'lan, you're elven is better than the Keepers ever where, but you know it was never my strong suit." He smiled warmly at her. Anuira shook herself mentally, wondering if she maybe had spent a little too much time in the fade with Elgar'nan and Dirthamen if she fell so easily into elvhen. She could feel Elgar'nan's amusement at her stray thought and smiled to herself.

"I'm sorry..." she amended and asked him in the king's tongue how he was and how he had survived. He answered her that he would love nothing more than to share it all with her, but he believed there was someone else waiting for her attention back at camp.

"Cullen?!" Anuira breathed, staring at the younger elf with an expression of nervousness and panic.

"He's been itching to see you since your message arrived, but the mage… Dorian, sent me to find you as he wanted to speak to Cullen before he met with you." Idrillas comforted as he draped an arm around her shoulders to guide her back towards camp.

Anuira could feel her stomach twisting into knots of both anticipation and fear. She couldn't hide everything from Cullen, she knew that, but how much could she risk telling him? Would he still accept her? And what of the baby?  
Her hand unconsciously went to her belly for a fraction of a second before she realized her mistake and quickly moved it to a safer location. The closer to camp they got, the more panic-stricken she felt. She missed him with every fiber in her being but she wasn't sure it would be the same. Would he still love her? Would she?

As she stood in front of her tent, the one she'd only recently gotten after a much heated argument with a reluctant Dorian, she felt like a hunter facing its first wolf.  
Dorian took one look at the panicked elf before ushering her inside, whispering a promise to look after her friend.

And there he was, at long last. Her lion. She felt her breath leave as she stared at him, uncertain of what to do.

"You really are alive…" Cullen whispered with eyes so full of emotion she felt her heart clench at the sight. It took him only seconds to get to her side and gather her up in his arms, kissing her with the desperation of a dying man. None of them was prepared for the violent need flaring up between them as their lips crashed and soon they had to break apart to catch not only their breath but their sanity.

" 'Ma soun vheraan, 'ma vhen'an… Ir abelas! I'm sorry!" _(My strong lion, my heart, I'm sorry! ...)_ Anuira whispered as she caressed her lover's cheek with her one hand and leaned her forehead to his.

"I'm the one who should ask your forgiveness. I abandoned you… I… I'm sorry…" Cullen all but choked out as the guilt threatened to tear his heart to pieces.

"No… no more guilt…" Anuira said warmly, joining her lips to his once more, unable to stand being parted for even a second more.

Cullen response was instant, almost primal as his lips parted and deepened the kiss. One hand stayed buried in her hair, pressing her into him with almost violent force, as the other hand traveled the length of her backside, caressing every curve in the process.  
Anuira felt her mind fading into a needy haze and she closed the mental barrier between herself and her passenger with the last remnants of conscious thought before being swept away on the waves of passion.

She tugged at the clasps to her lover's armor, relieved him of his sword and leather-gauntlets as he yanked her tunic over her head. When nothing but their pants remained they tumbled onto her bedroll in a flurry of kisses, gasps and shallow moans. Both of them desperate for the others touch as they reacquainted themselves through hungry passion.

Cullen pinned Anuira beneath his muscular body and enjoyed kissing his way down to her breast and stomach as he undid her pants before yanking them off in a fluid movement.

"Maker I've missed you…" he mumbled as he admired her flushed body, sprawled on the bedroll in front of him.  
She grew inpatient and grabbed his arm to pull him back but he resisted and turned his attention to her legs. Stroking her thighs almost reverently as he kissed his way up towards her folds, making her writhe and shudder in anticipation. As his tongue snaked out to taste her, she moaned his name breathlessly and her nails dug themselves into his shoulder.  
Satisfied with her reaction he kissed her folds, running his tongue along her slit until he found her bundle of nerves. He gently teased it with the tip of his tongue before settling in to alternate between kissing, suckling and lapping at her pleasure-nub.

Anuira almost lost it as he slipped two fingers into her core to accompany the sensation of his mouth working that wonderful bundle of nerves. Cullen groaned at how wet and welcoming she was as he gently begun moving his fingers in and out of her more than ready core.  
She bucked and begged him for release, she arched and pleaded for more and she pulled at his hair in a desperate attempt to get him to enter her. To fill her until she tumbled over the edge of passion screaming his name. But he remained vigilant in his quest and continued to move agonizingly slow until she thought she would disperse into a cloud of raw energy from the intensity of her passion.

In one fluid movement he moved to catch her lips in his and she could finally feel his length pushing against her. Anuira's heart stuttered when he gently slipped passed her folds and as his teeth found her nipple in a firm nip, he hilted himself in her welcoming core. She cried out at the sudden intensity of sensations and her nails once again dug into her lover's skin.  
Gone was the gentle teasing, replaced by primal need as he bottomed her out with every hard thrust, making her bite her lip not to wail out in euphoria.

Cullen suddenly flipped her onto her stomach, roughly entering her as he had her on her knees, bent into the pillows. This position had him hitting every sensitive spot inside her with every deep thrust, as well as gave him free reach to her bundle of nerves.  
It took only a few moments before Anuira felt her world explode, the pressure in the pit of her stomach shot out to overheat her nerves as she reached her peak. The blinding sensation made her back arch heavily as her body tensed in euphoric spasms and her head fell back to meet the ex-templar's waiting lips.

Cullen swallowed her cries in a passionate kiss, wrapping his free arm around her and letting his hand lazily tease her nipple as he kept her pressed to him. He continued to pound into her core, mercilessly rubbing her bundle of nerves while nipping and kissing the sensitive skin of her neck and ear. The sensation had the elf squirming, gasping and mewling in a feverish haze of passion and she was begging him for mercy in between kisses.

He didn't relent but instead picked up the pace as he felt his own high building to dangerous levels. He slammed into the tiny elf again and again, and as he started to get lost chasing his own high, he increased the pressure slightly at the apex of her thighs. The increase of sensation sent Anuira wailing into an earthshattering orgasm, making her inner walls contract hard enough around his sensitive length to send him tumbling over the edge after her. Burying himself deep in her core, he spilled into her, muffling his groans against the crook of her neck.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen... what did you do?! Anuira goes of the rails.

"We leave now." Anuira ordered and the small group of soldiers, formerly guards of Starkhaven, shuffled out of the tent. Her features were dark, cold and deadly determined as she turned to the person dangling between two of the soldiers she had just commandeered.

"But **you** , my dear Prince, are not coming with us."

"You cannot do this! I **order** you to..." Sebastian protested, violently thrashing against the restraints of his own soldier's firm grip on his hands and shoulders. As Anuira twirled a fireball in his face, Sebastian's mouth snapped shut in a hurry and he grew anxiously still.  
Fireballs. A neat little trick she had learned to pull from Elgar'nan's powers, she smirked to herself. Sebastian's brilliant blue eyes had gone wide as he stared at her in a mix of horror and surprise.

"What? How?!" He stuttered breathlessly as his features filled with suspicion and a hint of fear.

"This?" Anuira asked as she bounced the fireball in her hand, in front of his face.

"It's a little secret I picked up after receiving the anchor." She lied, smirking dangerously while playing with the ball of flames. Sebastian thrashed in his captors hold again, trying his best to get lose.

"It's no use my friend, you are far too valuable to these men for them to risk your life. Therefor... they will do anything I ask..." The smile she gave the Prince sent shivers of icy dread down his spine. It was like her eyes had drained of all warmth and turned to bottomless pits of dark, volatile anger. Even her determination seemed harsh and calculating, cold as the void itself.

Sebastian knew something was off when Anuira barged into his tent a few moments ago, demanding the help of his personal guard. But now he wondered what in the Maker's name could have happened to the elf. Something was not only off, but very, very wrong...

Sebastian had to do something he surmised. He had to at least try to get someone in there to help, to stop this madness but before it went horribly wrong. But before he could even make a sound the plan was cut short as a gauntlet hand connected hard with his face making the world spin and turn into blackness.

~.o.O.o.~

Even though they had had surprise on their side, the battle on the vast plains of the Wildervale, now seemed endless. It was brutal to the point of inhumane. There were more than ten Tevinter soldiers for every one of Anuira's and the enemies' numbers were steadily increasing.

Time seemed to slow as she processed the cruel mayhem unfolding all around her.

To her right she saw one of her own get his arm almost chopped completely off by a brutal claymore. She heard the agonizing scream claw its way out of the rouges chest as the sword was pulled clean from the wound. She saw the blood gushing every which way as the man fell panting and writhing to the ground. She witnessed him gritting his teeth in fierce determination as he shakily got back up and viciously sliced his enemy's neck in two.

To her left she heard spluttering battles-cries coming in short huffing bursts. There stood a huge woman, clad in heavy armor and swinging a sword almost as big as Anuira herself. The helmet laid crumpled on the ground beside her, blood was flowing heavily over one side of her face and she was drawing ragged bloody breaths. Pieces of her armor were shredded and buckled from both blunt and sharp weapons and she had several blackened arrows protruding from various areas of her already mangled body.

The woman's eyes however, where filled with an intense murderous glare that seemed to instill a fear in anyone daring to challenge her

Everywhere Anuira looked she saw the same maddened bloodlust reflected in the eyes of her small group of soldiers as they did everything they possibly could to stem the tide of war. She felt pride to be fighting along-side such admirable and fearless soldiers and she was going to remember them all. Every last one of them she committed to her memory as well as the sacrifice they made for the sake of Thedas.

Time suddenly sped up again and Anuira had to scramble to dodge a wicked long-blade swung at her midsection. It connected despite her efforts, cutting slightly through her leather armor, grazing her skin just enough to draw blood. She hissed in pain as she summoned the powers of Elgar'nan in her fury. Smirking in half-mad satisfaction she watched the enemy soldier's horrified expression as he turned to flee, right before he was engulfed - screaming and writhing – in a massive amount of flames.

The battle raged on for what seemed like an eternity and as dawn stood imminent, it brought with it a small sliver of hope.

But Anuira was deadly tired. She could scarcely lift her dual-bladed dagger anymore, much less swing it with precision. All her potions were gone, her still untrained mana-pool was all but drained and her movements grew evermore sluggish. Only a few of her brave soldiers were still alive, barely standing and seemingly holding on to life out of pure spite.  
The reinforcements would come and they would win this battle, but she would not be there to see it. None of them were.  
This was it, she was sure, and she silently prayed forgiveness to all those she left behind again before she steeled herself to make the final stand with all the strength she could possibly conjure.

Anuira heard the swing before she felt it and felt it before she saw it. The jagged short-sword of a skirmisher penetrated her midsection with a sickening crunching sound, missing her spine by fractions and Anuira stared in horror as she clasped her hand to her hardly noticeable bulging stomach.

Slowly her brain comprehended the truth. The baby... **her** baby... The one she had thought she didn't want, the innocent life that had nestled itself in her womb and survived against all odds. Gone…

Before the pain of the wound could register in her brain her face twisted in mad furious hate and with a deafening shriek of sorrow and loathing, she ripped the blade from her own stomach and plunged it mercilessly into her cowering enemy's skull.

As she stood snarling at the enemies surrounding her, she felt her head spinning ever faster before she sank unwillingly to her knees. Nobody moved around her and all eyes was on her. Looking around she noticed she was the last one standing.

Again...

Even though she was on her knees, weak and bleeding, the soldier seemed reluctant to get to close to her. There was fear and hesitation in their eyes and it made her smile, a cruel, wicked little smile.

She noticed a blueish light from somewhere close to her and she felt a strange power surging around her. It was tugging on every fiber in her body and as she raised her bloodied hand from her stomach she could see a blueish white light swirling around it.

A vicious inhuman giggle escaped her lips as she realized the power surged from within herself and she gladly let the raw power loose on the enemies. But all too soon she felt herself swaying, again dangerously close to unconsciousness due to blood loss and fatigue. It made her curse violently.

She really only had one more option. To gather as much energy as she possibly could, letting it built up inside of her until it burst. Hopefully she would be able to at least take half of the enemy soldiers with her in the explosion and halt the invasion enough to let the armies marching towards Starkhaven, have a fighting chance.

As the power started building up pressure in her chest, her life started slowly playing before her eyes, picking up speed as the memories progressed. Her childhood, her training to become a hunter, the conclave and her time with the inquisition. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she remembered the slaughter of her clan, the wedding plans, the catastrophe in Harpers Ford and the moment of happiness with her love right before he shattered her world into a million pieces.

"Love, how did you survive?" Cullen asked a bit suspiciously as he pulled his tunic back over his head. Anuira had visibly stiffened at the question as she got dressed.

"Dorian only said to keep an open mind..." Cullen continued, stealing a glance at the fidgeting elf.

Anuira took a deep breath, tying her leggings before settling into telling her story. She left out the part of her harboring Elgar'nan's spirit and instead half lied that he had bestowed her with magic. It somewhat fit the story since she could now bend the fade and throw small fireballs and it didn't have the same fear-factor as telling the ex-templar she had willingly become an abomination.

She had thought it would somehow be acceptable, seeing as how it had saved her life and with all they had faced together she believed their love would prevail. But Cullen had instantly recoiled from her.

"So you're a… a mage?.. again..." Cullen had asked bitterly, looking pointedly away from her and refusing to meet Anuira's hurt gaze.

"Is that really such a horrible thing?" She asked as she hopefully reached to embrace him. He had instantly shoved her away from him, stuttering incoherently about being sorry, feeling shame but saying he needed normalcy.  
He wondered how she could be so sure that the demon hadn't planted himself inside her along with the so called gift and he wondered how she could be so sure it was her so called god and not a demon's trick.

Anuira's anger grew with every word out of her lover's mouth. She couldn't believe he would turn on her, recoil and be apprehensive for a while, yes, but this? The anger she felt raging inside her had her trembling with restrain.

"So it's ok with magic if it is a gift from **your** God, but when it's one of **mine** I'm automatically an abomination?" She almost spat at him with such contempt it snapped him right out of his panicked ranting. They locked eyes for a moment. Smoldering embers clashing with icy emeralds and it wasn't until Cullen lowered his gaze - once again apologizing and admitting he couldn't be with her due to the questionable state of her magic - that she truly lost it.

"I'll make it really easy for you then. The reason **I know** it is Elgar'nan is because I merged with his spirit to be able to kill his mortal body and prevent a blight from happening... But maybe I should have let the darkspawn succeed so you could have had your blasted normalcy!" Anuira growled venomously at the horrified ex-templar who had gotten progressively whiter during her confession.

"Maker..." he whimpered as Anuira's hands burst into flames from her anger.

"I've felt his spirit and I've talked to him. I've felt the spirit of his son as well as his wife, Mythal, and I **know**. Think what you will, **coward**! But from now on, do it elsewhere!" Anuira continued, before Cullen all but fled from her tent, leaving her to seethe in her anger and broken heart.

She was flung back to reality with Cullen's betrayal fresh in her mind. Tears filled her eyes as all the major betrayals of her life replayed themselves over and over in her head. The breach, the death of her clan, Solas' intricate lies and Cullen's cowardice.

With all the sorrow also came a fierce will to survive. It surged through her entire being and awakened something forgotten slumbering deep in the recesses of her soul.

She was **not** done yet.

Solas needed to be stopped, the Tevinter's needed to be stopped and she couldn't disappear on Dorian or Idrillas again, they would kill her. Elgar'nan needed her alive, Dirthamen needed her… and suddenly she felt as if something cracked inside.

The pain was indescribable. Every nerve seemed to be on fire, every inch of her body felt like it was being ripped apart by icy claws only to be put back together again with lightning as glue and she felt more than heard herself scream as the blueish white light filled every corner of her being.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What in the name of the Maker happened to Anuira?! OH and also, say hello to a long lost friend.

"Maker have mercy..." Sebastian whispered as a pillar of white-blueish light shot from the ground a little distance's away. It pierced the sky with a screeching, crackling sound. Much like the sound from the magic that had caused the breach.  
Nervous, frightened murmurs spread like wildfire through the small army the rouge commanded and many fell to their knees in desperate prayer as an agonizing, bloodcurdling scream – emanating from the pillar of blinding light - echoed far and wide over the wilderness.

Just as suddenly as the light appeared it, dissipating in a huge shockwave sending many scrambling to get back to their feet. Left standing on her knees - where the beam had just recently been - was the familiar features of the former Inquisitor. She was unmoving, her head bent downwards and arms straight at her sides.

After what felt like an eternity the elf stood up slowly, reaching with her left arm behind her back to draw her second blade. Her arm sparkled with eerie, green glowing vines as she twirled the blade with practiced ease.

~.o.O.o.~

The pain suddenly vanished and she could feel the energy pent up in her chest release in a huge wave that sent everyone around her flying. Mana was coursing through her system unhindered. She could feel it churn in her soul, caressing it like a long lost soulmate and the warmth she felt radiating from within was both comforting and invigorating.

She felt lighter than she had in years, everywhere she looked the colors seemed more vibrant and she felt stronger than ever. As she reached for her blade, lying in in the bloodied dirt beside her, she slipped and leaned her weight on her left arm for support.  
Caught by surprise that her fall actually halted, she marveled at her arm in awe. Turning it this way and that, ready for it to have been a hallucination. But there it was. Mark and all.

The mark no longer hurt, it didn't seem to act up or even have a mind of its own. Anuria was mesmerized with the brilliant green veins of light now decorating her lower left arm as she flexed her fingers a couple of times. How her arm had materialized again was beyond her comprehension but it finally felt like her own again.  
Standing up she drew her second blade for the first time in what felt like forever. It felt like coming home. It was familiar and secure and made her battered heart soar.

She could feel the stirring of the Vir Abelas'an and hear their chiming voices call out to her, much like they did to Elgar'nan and Dirthamen. All their knowledge flooded her mind and soon every secret the well had harbored was revealed to her.

Her racing mind was interrupted as an arrow whistled past her ear and she abruptly remembered her surroundings. Anger flared in her heart once more and as if on instinct she threw her arm out towards the direction of the arrow. A huge wave of fire shot out, engulfing the enemies standing there with bows drawn, afraid to get closer.

"Isa'ma'lin!" A voice bored through the cacophony of screams erupting from the military flank set on fire and as Anuira turned to look, she met the worried gaze of her best friend and brother in all but name. He was standing a long ways ahead of the small army they had collected in the Vimmark Mountains. She saw the uncertainty in his eyes but unlike everyone else she didn't see fear, nor judgment.

A sad smile spread on her lips as she looked at the only person to fully accept her no matter what happened. The only person never to betray her or leave her.

"Tel'gara, lethal'lin. Shala es'var sal'shiralen eth…" _(Stay here, 'kin blood'. Keep their life's safe.)_ Anuira said, unbeknownst she spoke elvhen, as she raised her left hand. With the palm facing forward she uttered _'Shalasha' (Shield)_ and a ripple of greenish light settled in front of the small resistance army and stretched itself out until it fully encased the group.  
Dorian's eyes went wide when he realized she had just sealed them in a barrier-spell of huge magnitude and with a last look over her shoulder she had turned to face the waiting masses of enemy soldiers.

Anuira was dashing around in the enemies ranks, wreaking havoc and spreading mayhem like nothing Dorian had ever seen. It looked so effortless. A slash here, a dodge there, blocking now and then, all the while flinging spells around in a beautiful, deadly dance of destruction.  
Everyone protected in the barrier was looking at the scene unfolding in front of them. All in complete awe but many also in fear.  
The fear Dorian saw reflected in many soldiers eyes as they mesmerized followed the elfs movement, irked him. Anuira was once again putting her life at risk, giving everything she was in order to save people who would happily turn on her the second she was no longer of any use to them.

Suddenly Anuira's shape blurred, turning into a billowing cloud of shadow that grew to unimaginable proportions before revealing a roaring dragon where there had once stood an elf.  
The dragon was pitch black fading into white towards the stomach and had horns spiraling up and backwards rather than outwards to the sides. Dorian noticed a dark red-ish gash in the dragon's pearly-white belly and wondered distractedly if it was part of the dragon's pattern. Then he met the predatory eyes of the beast and marveled that they had the same deep sea-green turquoise color as Anuira's and along the spine-ridge was a pattern of thin pearly-white stripes.  
The dragon swiped its enormous legs and tail at the soldiers crowding it, roaring viciously before taking to the skies to rain its spirit-breath down at the fleeing armies below.

Suddenly it swooped down, crashing into panicked, fleeing soldiers only to blur back into the tiny elven rouge, now turned mage. She instantly grabbed her daggers and flung herself head-long into heated battle once more.  
She hurled spells left and right, preformed savage backstabs and disappeared, only to reappearing for a death-strike or taking off someones limb.  
In the middle of a charge she suddenly shapeshifted again, crushing enemies under her dragon-form while spewing her spirit-breath all around. She lifted of the ground, gaining momentum to swoop down, crashing into defenseless soldiers before once more shapeshifting back into an elf, disappearing into the chaos.

Anuira all but annihilated the army occupying Starkhaven in a manner of minutes and as the first rays of sunlight climbed over the Vimmark Mountains, the battle was over and the black dragon took off towards Tantervale.

~.o.O.o.~

Dorian found Anuira on her knees in the middle of a haunting battlefield just outside Hasmal. Sitting in a pool of her own blood, head bowed down and eye's half lidded as tears continuously streaked down her bloodstained cheeks. She was barely conscious and toppled over the moment Dorian touched her shoulder, leaving him scrambling to catch her before she fell face first into the bloodied mud.  
Turning her over in his lap and gasped in horror as he took in the gruesome wound to her stomach. _'So it had been a wound'_ he thought, remembering the red gash on the dragon's belly. His heart grew cold and he felt tears prickle in his eyes as the realization hit him.

Anuira was most likely not only bleeding from her wounds. Her body was also expelling a dead child, which made even more blood drain from her system. If it hadn't been for the timely intervention of Cole, Dorian most certainly would have been too late.

The spirit had found Dorian as he helped Sebastian reclaim Starkhaven and told him to hurry to her side.

"I tried to talk to Cullen, but he was too… frightened…" Cole had said looking confused at Dorian. Dorian had obliged with as much information as he could before asking the spirit where in the blazes he'd been all this time.

"I… I don't remember…" Cole had answered in a dead-pan voice, as he climbed up behind the mage on the borrowed horse.

"I remember Solas… then nothing… Only darkness… then light. Calling... Breaking chains… Freeing my mind." Cole continued in his typically fragmented type of speech.

"Solas wiped your mind… Venhedis fasta vass!" Dorian cursed as he steered the horse to follow the signs of bloody battle towards Tantervale.  
During their travel Cole listened attentively to the story Dorian told him. What had happened since the spirit had been manipulated by Solas and Cole was not entirely happy with what he found out. He had trusted Solas and the elf had betrayed that trust. This saddened him greatly, as did his inability to help during the great time of need his friend had gone through.

Now Cole was helping Dorian as he tried his best to stave the blood spilling from the Anuiras wounds. Particularly the one in her abdomen and for the first time ever Dorian regretted not choosing to become a healer.  
He couldn't sense the extent of the damage and it was proving difficult to heal her since something was disturbing Dorian's spells. The resistance seemed to emanate from Anuira herself and it was taking every inch of concentration the mage had to keep his magic flowing into the wound.  
He asked the spirit if he could perhaps make contact with either Anuira or Elgar'nan with that mindreading ability of his, to see if he could find out what was causing this disturbance and the boy said he would try.

"It's so quiet… Everything's hurting… Pain, loss, anger. There's only emptiness… Need to find…" Cole said before his eyes shot wide-open, his mouth twisted into a silent scream and then he was gone.

~.o.O.o.~

There was nothing around her, only a black void of emptiness as far as her eyes could see. The crushing silence accompanying the emptiness seemed to almost make her implode with madness.  
She couldn't find Elgar'nan. No matter how hard she had screamed, wished and prayed, he had remained silent. And no matter how long she trekked this accursed landscape, she couldn't find her way to the clearing where Dirthamen would be waiting.

She couldn't even find her way back to her own body.

Now she sat hugging her legs – as if to stop herself from falling to pieces – with her knees drawn up under her chin, hiding her tears from herself as her sobs wracked painfully through her entire being. The memories of happiness and triumphant times had been slowly bled from her since she ended up in this place, slow enough that she at first didn't notice. And now when hopelessness and despair had her in their claws dug in deep, it seemed impossible to break their hold.

She had fought so hard for so long but what was her reward? Betrayal, suffering and pain.

She was so tired…


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where in the void did Cole disappear to? Why haven't Elgar'nan tried to help? And will Anuira survive at all?

Everywhere he looked he saw huge pillars of crystal weaving their way through the branches of enormous trees. Ever upwards they went, towards small “islands” in the clouds. The crystals had different hues and colors, different shapes and sizes and seemed more alive than the elf’s moving around in the awe-inspiring landscape.  
Cole found himself being ignored by the passers-by – or more correctly, he was invisible to them – and he wondered where he had ended up. Cole remembered being pulled, his entire being seeming to dissolve as he felt himself pulled further away from the world where Anuira lay dying in the arms of the Tevinter mage, desperately trying to save her life.

He had felt something as he touched his dying friend’s forehead. A reluctance but it had been a simultaneous pull and push. A resisting, beckoning force that he had not been able to wrap his head around before he found himself slung into what later proved to be this weird, beautiful city.  
Cole walked around the peculiar but beautiful city, listening, wondering and slowly forgetting why he was there, who he was looking for and why it was important for him to get back to where he came from.   
He found himself in front of a huge hexagonal, silver fountain, depicting a lovely elven woman conjuring water from the ground and letting it fall into the fountain.

“You should not be here…” A deep voice suddenly rumbled sternly from behind as Cole stood admiring the intricate design of the well.  
Cole jumped at the sound and spun to face whomever owned the voice. The sight that greeted him had him fidgeting and he was unable to look the elf in the eyes. Seldom had Cole seen someone so regal and the piercing gaze scrutinizing him had him squirming uncomfortably where he stood with his back against the fountain.

“Tell me spirit, how did you find this place?” the blackhaired elf with the tanned skin said as he adjusted a piece of his copper-colored chest armor.

“I… I wanted to help… I tried to. There was a pull… but then a push.” Cole said hesitantly, daring to steal a glance at this elfs regal features.

“And who pulled at you?”

“Sadness… Shadows… Something more… but less…” Cole said truthfully, not fully knowing the answer to the question himself.

~.o.O.o.~

Dorian didn’t know who to kill first, Cullen or Sebastian, but - seeing as how Cullen had so ungraciously disappeared - Dorian was strongly leaning towards Sebastian.   
Cullen had, for some reason unknown to everyone, left and was nowhere to be found. Idrillas had sent a message to Skyhold letting them know Cullen was missing and to notify Starkhaven if the man appeared. Preferably with intricate details as to why the idiot had left in the first place.   
Sebastian was just… Well… Sebastian. Saying all the wrong things, on all the wrong occasions.  
He was a chantry-lackey through and through and due to this, he also had – according to Dorian and Idrillas at least – a rather skewed view of how the world should work. Chaste marriages, mages behind bars, templar rule under chantry supervision and so on. All in the name of the Maker of course.

Idrillas being a Dalish and Dorian a Tevinter magister, didn’t exactly share the previous brother’s view’s and was, pretty much, on the verge of snapping his neck.  
The only reason they were still in Starkhaven was so Anuira’s wounds could be properly tended to by the one healer both Idrillas and Dorian trusted. Namely Merrill. And since Anuira still hadn’t woken up, going anywhere was unthinkable.

Merrill had taken up healing at the insistence of Hawke, right after the cataclysmic events in Kirkwall a couple of years back. Both had seen more than their share of crazy and wanted to make a difference in another way than destruction. Hawke already knew what little he could learn about healing magic, but Merrill had the potential to become a brilliant spirit healer. And she had, with the guidance of the several Dalish tribes wandering the wilderness of the Free Marches and close by regions.

Dorian trusted Merrill mostly on gut feeling and the fact that Varric trusted the elf with his life and Idrillas trusted her because she was Dalish.

According to Merrill, Anuira was mostly fine, physically – though she had lost the baby no one but Dorian knew she was even carrying. And if it was due to the trauma to Anuiras midsection or the mysterious fact that she now seemed like a living vessel of lyrium, was unclear. They wouldn’t know what had happen for sure until the elf woke up and for some reason Merrill could hardly sense Anuira at all. It was as if her body was filled to the brim and empty at the same time.

It had been almost five days since Merrill had closed all the wounds but still Anuira remained unconscious and even Elgar’nan was closed off. Both Dorian and Idrillas were losing hope but neither Hawke, Merrill, Dorian nor Idrillas was willing to take any chances by bringing in other mages so they kept the circumstances quiet. The last thing Anuira needed after all she had gone through, was becoming subject for persecution and or experiments due to the fact that she was something no one had probably ever seen.

Dorian was also antsy about the fact that Cole had mysteriously disappeared. Again.

“Would you sit down already? You are going to pace a hole in the good prince’s floor if you continue on like that…” Dorian said, looking up from his book where he sat in a chair next to Anuira’s bed.

“She should’ve woken up days ago!” Idrillas exploded, throwing his hands up in sheer frustration.

“And where is this spirit you mentioned?! Cole? Shouldn’t he be back by now? I have a really bad feeling about this…” the elf continued heatedly, fidgeting with the window curtain where he was standing for the moment.

“And you think either of them will magically pop back into existence because you are wearing a hole in the stone floor of Starkhaven castle?” Dorian said tiredly, looking back at his book, leaning his head on his fingers.

“How can you be so calm?!” Idrillas growled loudly, looking – or rather glaring – at the mage.

“Looks can be rather deceiving my dear elf.” Dorian replied matter-of-factly, meeting the white-haired elf’s deep blue glare with his own grey stare.

“I've been through worse, as I’m sure you know and Anuira is rather stubborn. She will pull through this, just give her time, and if by any chance she needs my assistance, I’ll make sure I’m right here!” Dorian said with conviction before settling back to read his book.

“Well that’s… I just…” Idrillas started, looking like he was about to explode but then he visibly deflated in defeat.

“I’ll just go get some food…” the young elf continued glumly, casting a last glare at the mage.

Dorian might be one of the most gorgeous things Idrillas had seen walking around Thedas, but he had a knack for walking all over the elf’s nerves, driving him up the walls. He could never be sure if the mage meant what he said or if he was pulling Idrillas leg and it was tiring, annoying and utterly infuriating. Idrillas couldn’t fathom what Anuira saw in the snarky, know-it-all Tevinter mage but had sworn to tolerate him until she was awake and matters could at least be discussed.

~.o.O.o.~

"For the moment I'm trapped here." Elgar'nan said simply in reply to the spirits question as to why he simply did not leave to help search for Anuira.

"Trapped? Yes. That's why I started to forget. Yes! Like the fade... but, different." Cole rambled, making Elgar'nan raise an eyebrow at the spirit now crouching on the rim of a huge hexagonal fountain.

"Speak clearly spirit. Do you know where we are?" He demanded.

"Yes! And no... It's the fade, but it's not… Locked… inside her, grieving, dark, hopeless. Empty but not alone." Cole still rambled, rocking back and forth as he chewed his thumb and staring at nothing in particular.

"Are you trying to tell me she has created another dimension, like the fade, **inside** herself? But that's impossible! It would kill her!"

"Yes... never ending, ever growing, pushing… Pulling her apart..." Cole answered, locking eyes with Elgar'nan as he finally stilled and focused on the moment.

"You can link with her?" Elgar'nan said surprised, more a statement than an actual question.

"Yes." Cole deadpanned.

"How?"

"I don't know." Cole said looking down at his feet, fidgeting with a pebble there.

"Can you get to her? You have the ability to cross between planes, you can reach her. Help her?" Elgar'nan wondered, growing more and more anxious by the minute. He didn't know why, how or even when he had started to care for the quirky elf who had been gracious enough to help him in his predicament, but now he found the fact of her dying to be unacceptable.  
He was also more than curious about what in the void had happened to make the tiny mortal being strong enough to pull of making a dimensional pocket. Not to mention she drained him almost completely of his power and energy before exiling him here.

“Veil is weak... Full of holes. Easy to slip through.” Cole said glumly, not looking up from his fiddlings with the little pebble.

“Whereas this, is not.” Elgar’nan filled in, rubbing his forehead with one hand, sighing.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what really did happen with Elgar'nan during Anuiras rampage. Will Cole find his way to help his friend? Will Anuira be safe from all the fear all mages face?

“Let me get this straight.” Dorian said pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“Anuira shut you out as she met up with Cullen and then knocked you unconscious by stealing your energy sometime after that..."

"Yes."

"She then somehow proceeded to unlock her inner elvhen immortal nature as well as reassemble her arm from the fade **and** steal back the mark from Solas... "

"Yes."

"She also managed to somehow learn how to shapeshift which allowed her to decimate an entire army by herself, and that’s on top of creating a dimensional pocket inside herself..."

"Yes."

"And this said dimension… It has you trapped, pulled Cole in and is now slowly killing her by expanding uncontrollably?” Dorian finished looking raggedly at the spirit borrowing his friend’s body for the moment.

“If what we have discussed is true then yes.” Elgar’nan said matter-of-factly, trying his best to ignore the white-haired elf male staring at him with his mouth hanging wide open. He’d done that since Dorian introduced him and explained the circumstances concerning Elgar’nan’s presence in Anuira’s body.  
This was one of the reactions Elgar’nan had predicted Anuira would have had when he disclosed who he really was and back then her odd reaction had made him a bit annoyed. Now, he was thankful since this incessant ogling was more than a little disturbing.

"Is that even possible?!" Idrillas wondered looking from Dorian to Anuira – or rather Elgar'nan – and back again. 

"When has our dear little elf **ever** settled for doing anything merely possible?" Dorian snarked unconsciously as he mulled over the information he received.

They couldn't go after Anuira, seeing as how she had closed everyone out and effectively locking everyone who would have been able to help, inside her own world. For the same reason they had no way of calling her back to them either. Unfortunately, however, they couldn't stop the dimensional pocket from killing her without her help – or at least the help of Elgar’nan or Cole – and this was a conundrum to which none of them had any answer.

Dorian felt like a dog running in circles, chasing its own tail.

He'd been thrilled when Anuira had woken up, even if it had only been Elgar'nan clad in the body of his best friend. Now he felt just as useless as he had before.  
Even with their combined knowledge of what had transpired the past few days, they didn't know how to save Anuira.  
Elgar’nan was only able to project his consciousness to the mortal world with great effort and he had to retreat to the spirit world created by Anuira, often to regain his strength. It seemed Cole was all the hope they had and that was not as comforting as one might think since - according to Elgar'nan - the dimension had a forgetting effect on the spirit.

~.o.O.o.~

“I demand to see the elf! She has much to answer for and I **know** she’s awake!” Sebastian shouted at the very indignant Idrillas standing in his way, refusing the human passage to Anuiras room.

Anuira, or rather Elgar’nan was pushing himself to the limit just be able to talk to them, forcing past the borders of the dimensional pocket took almost all the strength the ancient elf had and right now he was resting. Nothing good could come from Sebastian barging in to demand answers the elf didn’t possess and risk the King discovering the rather unorthodox truth about Anuira’s state in the process.

Not only did Elgar’nan not talk even remotely in the same manner as Anuira. He also had not been able to share experiences with Anuira since the night this blighted mess began. He had only been able to sense some changes due to the sheer enormity of the emotions.

They knew something bad, really bad had happened after she met up with Cullen. Bad enough to run the pregnant elf out to the battlefield in a fit of rage rivaling that of Elgar’nan himself. Then there was a gap in information until Dorian met up with Anuira just outside Starkhaven, when she was engulfed in that light.  
From then on it was mostly guesswork but they had deduced that Anuira somehow had tapped into some unknown power inside her, allowing her to become fully elvhen. And a rather powerful one at that.  
From what Cole had discussed with Elgar’nan in the fade-replica dimension, there was much sorrow and confusion in her mind and all those strong feelings had probably overwhelmed her. The dimension was most likely an intended defense gone awry and in her oversensitive state she couldn’t deal with it.

Idrillas was glaring at Sebastian, doing everything he could to stall until Dorian came back. Dorian had gone to get something to eat, something he only allowed himself once a day since they had found Anuira. Dread wolf take the blasted mage for having such poor timing.  
By himself Idrillas couldn’t really do much, other than bark and throw empty threats around. The mage, however, had pull and could certainly get the damn human to back off before Idrillas tossed him out the nearest window.

“If she needs to answer for something then she will do so when she is **not** confined to bed, still recovering from nearly dying to liberate **your** blighted city!!!” Idrillas growled at the blue-eyed man scowling in front of him.

“She’s a mage! We all saw the mayhem she can create! I need to protect my city and its inhabitants and thus proper measures must be taken!” Sebastian all but howled at the stubborn elf and signaled to his guards to remove the obstacle. Idrillas sneered and had his bow was drawn in less than a second, making the guards stop in their tracks. The elf had two arrows nocked, each pointing to one of the two guards with swords drawn, looking to their King for confirmation.

“Don’t be foolish…” Sebastian said.

“You will not lay hands on my sister, **ever** , you filthy, fickle shemlen!” Idrillas spat in reply. He was furious at the disloyalty and ungratefulness that seemed to permeate most of the human ranks. The memories of his clan getting brutally slaughtered was still etched into his retina and fueled his fury.

“I will not hurt her so long as she does not pose a threat. I’m just going to put on these bracers to keep her powers in check!” Sebastian said exasperated.

To his defense, Sebastian didn’t know that that probably would be a death-sentence for the elf. He didn’t know that would lock her into her own dimension, hindering her from closing it and get back to herself. Not to mention Cole would die with her, as would Elgar’nan who had been partly locked away in a dream of Arlathan. But Idrillas was past the point of caring. There was no way he could make this brainwashed chantry-boy see reason and anything he could say would probably only serve make things even more dire. Seeing as how the very thought of unchecked magic seemed to frighten the King.

“You **will not** touch my sister!” Idrillas sneered again, drawing his bow even harder, ready to release it the second the idiots would dare try anything.

Sebastian sighed and signaled his guards to remove the agitated elf. There was a load twang as Idrillas let his arrows fly and the guards swords clanked menacingly as they parried the arrows and warily stalked closer. The elf had already drawn his bow once more, his deep-blue eyes burning with hatred as he backed towards the door to Anuira’s room, dead-set on protecting her even if it meant getting killed in the process.

The heavy armored guards suddenly stopped. Curling in on themselves, gasping as they dropped their swords. Soon they were retreating in a hurry, screaming and whimpering pathetically.

Sebastian muttered something under his breath and was about to let his bow loose, using the momentary confusion of the elf whose attention was elsewhere.

“Oh I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Never mind **I** would be sorely disappointed, but that man is Anuiras last living family. I would hate to have to see her tear into you with vengeance if you robbed her of that.” Dorian said in exuberant sarcasm, twirling a fireball in his hand.

“You!” Sebastian spat.

“Me?” Dorian smirked.

“You put my guards under a spell, didn’t you?!” The former chantry brother said bitterly, scowling at the Tevinter standing on the last step of the staircase behind him.

“Why of course. Can’t have them accidentally poke someone with those. Ghastly things really.” Dorian said, motioning towards the discarded swords.

“Don’t worry, it will wear off in a minute.” the mage continued, flashing a cocky grin at the annoyed King.

“This filthy shemlen is trying to kill my sister!” Idrillas interrupted. Grinding the words out through clenched teeth, still pointing his drawn bow at Sebastian.

“I beg your pardon!?” Sebastian reeled at the elf.

Dorian picked up instinctively what the trouble was about, seeing as how the King had a pair of those hateful nullifier-bracers dangling from his belt and not to mention Idrillas serious agitation. It really was easy to piece two and two together and he racked his brain for a plausible excuse as to why the bracers could not be used. The stand-off was interrupted as a female voice spoke up.

“Idrillas is right, Sebastian. If you put those on Anuira right now. She will die. The only thing keeping her tethered two our plane is her magic and connection too these two men.” Merrill spoke softly but her voice was cold and hard as ice as she pinned the King with her stern brownish-green eyes.

“You still on about magic Sebastian? Thought you had learned by now…” Hawke said looking at Sebastian with a scowl as he came up the steps behind Dorian to stand with his wife.

Sebastian stood indecisive for a few moments before warily lowering his bow.

“You and I both know the horrors magic can inflict! It needs to be checked!” Sebastian said heatedly, turning to look at his friends.

“Well then maybe we should just stop treating your soldiers and villagers since our magic is so dangerous and inconvenient for you?” Hawke snarked menacingly, his temper flaring as it often did when talking to the thickheaded King. Merrill nodded to emphasize her husband’s words.

The comment had the desired effect and Sebastian backed down, rubbing his forehead with a tired sigh.

~.o.O.o.~

_‘If you can maintain a connection to Anuira, you can use that to let it pull you towards her instead of trying to force your way through.’_ Cole repeated Elgar’nan’s words to himself again. The only way the spirit had been able to enter in the first place was due to his connection, his bond to Anuira. The only way to move freely in this world was through her and her will and Cole had the only means to tap into that power.

He let his mind focus on that something. That something that was pulling on him, tugging on every fiber of his being and he followed the feeling through what seemed like endless darkness. All the while trying to keep his frail connection to Anuira alive. It was flickering and faint, threatening to die at any moment.  
Cole fought his forgettable nature tooth and nail, to keep himself from disappearing into the dark of the void around him. The void he knew, would swallow both him and Anuira if he couldn’t keep his mind in check. And to his relief, the pull he felt, the feelings, soon turned into something he could audibly follow.

At first it was only a hum. A faint despairing tune hanging in the air all around him. But the longer he listened the more it grew. It was a sad sound, a lonely tune, cried by a hopeless heart. True to his nature he instantly wanted to help, to soothe and he let those feelings carry him forward.

Very soon the humming turned to words:

_”Ha’hren na melana sahl’in_   
_Emma ir abelas_   
_Souver'inan isala hamin_   
_Vhen’an him dorf’elas_   
_In Uthenera na revas_

_Vir sulahn'nehn_   
_Vir dirth’era_   
_Vir samahl la numin_   
_Vir lath sa'vunin_

_Vir sulahn'nehn_   
_Vir dirth’era_   
_Vir samahl la numin_   
_Vir lath sa'vunin”_

The words was sung by a familiar voice and without thinking he sunk down beside the singing elf, peering up at her sideways from under his hat as he let one hand idly play with a lock of her hair. He was finally home.

“Cole… You came…” Anuira said, smiling weakly through her tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation to the song found in this chapter.
> 
> Original title:  
> In Uthenera (Within the Eternal Waking Dream)
> 
> Translation:  
> Elder your time is come  
> Now I am filled with sorrow  
> Weary eyes need resting  
> Heart has become grey and slow  
> In waking sleep of freedom
> 
> We sing, rejoice  
> We tell the tales  
> We laugh and cry  
> We love one more day


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revelation of Anuira's circumstances. What is the bond that Cole and Anuira share? And what happened to Cullen?

“Ar silan…” _(I remember…)_ she all but whispered, looking seriously at Cole through a mist of tears.

“Silan garahnen… ga’ta min i lam... Rahnen tel’un’dyan eolasa…” _(I remember everything… both present and past… Things I should not know…)_ Anuira continued quietly, looking blankly at the ground in front of her while Cole still played idly with a lock of her black hair, listening intently. The spirit didn’t say anything, only stayed by her side quietly, letting Anuira collect herself piece by piece.

“I remember my soulmate, Dirthamen – my soul-brother in all but blood – as we ran through Arlathan. I remember the dying deer I led to the land of the dead and I remember being uplifted by the Evanuris for my powerful gift as a fade walker. I recall the war between the dark ones led by Anaris and how he twisted my vanity to be my fall.   
I can still feel the sting of the betrayal of Fen’harel. How he split us all in two. Bodies locked away in earth as our spirits was forced into prisons in the fade. I recall the pain of the darkspawn taint – born of the void – coursing through my veins as they found my sleeping body deep underground, releasing my spirit from its prison only to lock it in another. It drove me insane, like it did Andruil even before we were all locked away behind the veil.” Anuira mused, almost like she was in a trance.

“I remember the relief when a blond elf finally struck me down, ending my pain after years of being on fire and I remember being slung into a new body. A small frail thing not yet born and I remember slumbering inside countless mortals, slowly regaining my sanity but also loosing myself to the mortal blood as I died piece by piece with every passing vessel. I can recall countless lives but not being able to break free, merging more and more into the beings I was prisoner inside. None could feel me… remember me…until now…” the blackhaired elf continued, now looking straight at Cole with piercing eyes.

“Silan na. ‘Ma da’halla, ‘ma elgar tundrala.” _(I remember you. My little halla, my spirit of kind hearts.)_ Anuira said, caressing one cheek of the spirit with a warm smile.

~.o.O.o. ~

He was deep in thought, scowling worriedly while anxiously pacing in the make-believe garden in the dreamed up Arlathan landscape he was currently locked inside, when everything started to churn and shift under his feet.  
It nearly made him yelp in surprise, not to mention the panic he felt when he thought it was all over. That he and the spirit had failed in their task to guide Anuira out of harm’s way. But to his astonishment he found his surroundings taking the familiar shape of an emerald green clearing and before he knew it he was standing eye to eye with his equally surprised son.

“I found her, them... They… she, is ok... better.” Cole rambled as he picked on the grass in front of him where he crouched, making the two men almost jump out of their skin in surprise.

Elgar’nan was just about to speak when he was interrupted by someone emerging out of a cloud of billowing smoke.

“Ir abelas. Tel’sulevan tuas na hara.” _(I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.)_ Anuira said the moment she became visible, looking apologetically at the two now gawking elven men.

Elgar’nan collected himself far quicker than Dirthamen and suddenly flashed her a rare smile as he took her hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go.

“Ar telsilem, da’ean.” _(I was worried, little bird.)_ he said still smiling that rare small smile that even touched his eyes.

“Ahn? Sulrahn garem?” _(What? Something happened?)_ Dirthamen wondered warily as he snapped back to attension.

“Vin Dirthamen, sulrahn tel’dhru’gonathe garem. Thuast... Tel’dirthan ahn. _(Yes Dirthamen, something incredible happened. However… I cannot tell you what.)_ Anuira said with a small smile his way.

“Ahnsul?” _(Why?)_ Dirthamen wondered, raising an eyebrow and Anuira looked pleadingly over at Elgar’nan.

How was she supposed to explain what she didn’t really understand herself? Everything was a mess, all the memories and all the knowledge was jumbled and while some was clear as day, other things were still clouded.   
She was not certain telling Dirthamen about her connection to Falon’Din was a good idea, seeing as how they had been inseparable since a very young age. And if the loss Dirthamen felt was even a bleak memory of what she, or rather Falon’Din had felt, then she needed to be really sure about everything before risking to bring it up.

Elgar’nan put a hand on his son’s shoulder and shook his head at the man.

“Ahnsul tel’eolas ahn garem, ishalen…” _(Because she doesn’t know what happened, son…)_

“So, why did you bring us here?” Elgar’nan wondered in kings-tongue, looking back at Anuira.

~.o.O.o.~

It had only been a week since he had all but stormed out of the elf’s tent but it felt like years. The situation had been replaying in his mind ever since and with every repeat, came more shame, more hurt and more regrets.  
Had he really made the correct choice by pushing his love away? He wasn’t sure anymore. Not by a long shot. He felt he had betrayed her, betrayed their love and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.   
He cursed his own fear who had driven him to act so uncaringly towards the only woman to ever fully accept him and his past. And he had abandoned her due to his fear of magic. It was unacceptable, shameful and he suddenly wished he could undo it all.

The barmaid passing him looked at him with a question in her eyes and he nodded in response, causing her to bring over another glass of wine. He liked how the barmaids of Orlais always seemed to know when to speak and when to communicate without words. Secretly he wished he had their tact and skill in the matter, then he might not have made such a mess of the situation with Anuira.

There was a scuffle at the entrance to the tavern and a deafening silence broke out across the room. He looked around to find every pair of eyes staring in the same direction and he followed their stares. His eyes landed on a familiar redhead that was now scowling at him from a little ways away, arm crossed and lips pressed into a hard line.

“Cullen?” Leliana said sternly, making him shrink in place. Oh how he wished he could just disappear on the spot.

“There is someone who would like to see you…” she added, piercing the ex-templar with a hard glare that would have killed him if it was possible. He sighed as he lowered his head, shoving off the table and got to his feet. He should have known Leliana would find him. She could find a needle in a haystack on a rainy day.

He followed the spymaster through the streets of Val Royeaux with a heavy anxious heart and could already hear the scolding coming his way.    
Leliana had always had a different opinion of magic than he had, even though she had witnessed its destructive force she believed in justice for the mages and believed without a doubt that caging them for being born with a gift they did not ask for, was a heinous crime.  
Cullen had not always seen eye to eye with the spymaster, but he had an admiration for her fearlessness and unwavering trust in the face of all those dangers.

Arriving at the Grand Cathedral was as breathtaking as ever. The structure had seen its share of abuse during the years but still it radiated power, wisdom as well as strength.

Leliana led Cullen into the central building, up a million stairs through a spider-web network of hallways and floors until they arrived in front of a rather insignificant wooden door somewhere in the uppermost levels of the Cathedral. He stood squirming behind Leliana as she knocked firmly on the door, receiving an almost instant reaction as the door brutally swung open. A pair of steely orbs pierced Cullen with such fierceness he once again wished he could just disappear. It seemed like word had reached even the ears of Divine Victoria and even though Cassandra had a similar view on magic as Cullen, she was profoundly protective of her friends.

“You!” Cassandra almost spat, as she nailed the ex-templar to the floor with her gaze.

“Not here, your Holiness.” Leliana said in that honeysmooth voice of hers, radiating as much danger as it did politeness.   
Cassandra backed off, opening the door to let the two inside what seemed to be her study. Leliana stepped in without hesitation but Cullen lingered at the threshold, feeling like an animal about to walk into a trap.

“Well?” the spymaster said raising a stern eyebrow at him and with a heavy sigh of resignation he entered, shutting the door behind him.

“You bumbling oaf!” Cassandra reeled at Cullen the second the door closed.

“What in the name of the Maker where you thinking! Leaving her in a state like that?!” she continued, pacing agitatedly back and forth in front of her dark wooden desk, decorated with a rising sun.

“I thought you were an honorable man!” Cassandra fumed, now looking at him with fury.

“Let him speak Cassandra, there may be things we don’t know. That no one but Anuira knows.” Leliana spoke softly, but Cullen was not deceived by her soft sweet tone. He knew full well she could slit a man’s throat still speaking in those honeysweet tones that lulled people into a false sense of security.

“Tell us Cullen, why did you leave our dear Inquisitor?” the spymaster continued, placing a hand on Cassandras shoulder to keep the woman from jumping down the ex-templars throat again.

“Ehm… How much do you know?” Cullen asked sullenly, staring at the ground in front of him.

“Enough. Idrillas informed Skyhold and they in turn contacted us and now we keep in direct contact with Starkhaven.” Leliana said matter-of-factly.

Cullen sighed as he rubbed his hands over his face, trying to clear his mind enough to tell his story. Both women listened quietly and intently as he recounted for the happenings of that hateful night. About his fears, about Anuiras confessions and what he at the time had believed to be threats.  
The words poured out of him like draining pus from a badly infected wound and it left him feeling a little lighter. Once he became silent, reaching the end of his recount, both women stared at him a while before turning to each other.

“He does not know.” Leliana concluded eyeing Cassandra as she mulled over the new information.

“And the news of this… spirit… is quite troubling.” Cassandra shot back, still lightly glaring at Cullen.

“What don’t I know?!” Cullen exclaimed, irritated at all the riddles and his own stupidity. He suddenly felt needed to get back to Anuira, beg her forgiveness and hope against hope that she would be more reasonable than he ever was.

“I’m sorry Cullen, from what we’ve heard she took a small group of soldiers with her to stem the invasion of the Free Marches until reinforcements could arrive.” Leliana said in a sad tone of voice that had bile rise in the back of the ex-templar’s throat.

“Unfortunately she got badly hurt and still haven’t woken up…” Leliana continued causing Cullen to slump against the wall behind him with a sharp intake of breath. He felt a chill run the length of his spine and as his head started to spin he grasped a nearby chair to steady himself.  
His stomach was in an uproar from the stress, lack of food and excess alcohol and threatened to expel its content on the neat floors of the Divine’s study as he swallowed and tried to breathe through the nausea.

“There’s also been a rumor…” Leliana said hesitantly looking over to Cassandra who stood frowning with her arms folded across her chest.

“Rumor?” Cullen managed to choke out, now slightly hunched over the back of the chair, eyes pinched closed as he tried to collect himself.

Leliana looked again to Cassandra. An unspoken question shining clearly in her eyes whether to tell the ex-templar or not. The divine didn’t flinch in her resolve as she met the spymaster’s eyes before speaking.

“There is a rumor she lost her unborn child due to her injuries in the battle…” Cassandra said sternly, her disapproval apparent to anyone who looked her way.

Cullen was unaware of her burning gaze. He was blind to anything around him other than the misery of his situation. His stomach churned violently causing its content to splatter all over the chair he was leaning heavily upon before his knees finally gave way and buckled under his weight. The world tilted heavily on its axis as he struggled to draw air into unwilling lungs. Cold sweat pearled on his forehead and the last thing he saw before blackness overtook his shocked mind, was the concerned face of the redheaded spymaster.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mainly follows Dorian and Idrillas, will they be able to tolerate each other?!
> 
>  
> 
> MILD SPOILER!!  
> Heads up for those that might be sensitive.(M/M kissing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long intro this time but I have to say this.
> 
> I have been recieving some mails about spelling-errors and grammatical misshapps and though I thank you for making me aware of them, I must ask people to think about HOW they write stuff. If you can't be constructive or nice about it, then please, just don't open your mouth at all. Mkay?  
> I am not from an english-speaking country, this language is not my native one and even if it was, errors would probably make it through editing. There is no reason, what so ever, to be rude about such things!

“We have nothing to go by! Trying to reach her in the fade would be hard but in this case, in her dimension, it could be disastrous since we have no idea what we’re in for!” Dorian argued against the two well-meaning but rather annoying mages across from him in the dimly lit room where Anuira still lay unmoving. Hawke and Merrill didn’t know everything about Anuira’s situation – nor did they really need to according to both Dorian and Idrillas. But that made trying to convince the two that the spell to enter someone’s fade-dream, was a really bad idea, since he had to constantly dodge sensitive but vital facts.

“It can’t be worse than what we faced in Feynriel’s dream when we helped him in Kirkwall!” Merrill said, trying her best not to sound as frustrated as she looked. She’d been working night and day to try and heal and reach the unconscious elf but whenever she asked questions about the peculiar situation being Anuira, she was being stonewalled by both Dorian and Idrillas.

“It can, actually, since that lad didn’t resemble a bottle of lyrium, now did he?” Dorian shot back, making the brown-haired elf pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Hawke stood with his arms crossed over his chest, frowning behind his tiny wife who was still tending to the unmoving elven inquisitor. Idrillas was standing next to the window, leaning his back against the wall as he glowered at the unrelenting mages. They had been at it for hours.

“Couldn’t we actually benefit from the lyrium or magic seemingly flowing in her veins?” Hawke tried, but Dorian just shook his head.

“But…” Merrill tried but getting cut off by Idrillas who had finally had enough of bickering mage’s for one day.

“Out!” he roared, pointing to the door while glaring daggers at each of the mages in turn.

“Now! **All** of you!” he added, pointing at the door with a sneer when the three only looked at him with blank expressions.

Merrill and Hawke both sighed in irritation before relenting, making a beeline for the door. They knew Idrillas well enough by now, to know he would not be talked down at this point and any further attempts would probably end in bloodshed. Dorian on the other hand, cocked an eyebrow at the white-haired, cranky elf but made no attempt to move from his chair.

“Surely, you…” he began but got cut off by a throwing-knife imbedding itself in the wood of the chair, just next to his right arm. Dorian looked wide-eyed from the knife back to Idrillas a few times, making sure he was indeed seeing what he thought he was seeing. Then he snatched up his staff and disappeared out the door, grumbling curses in tevene under his breath.

As soon as the door closed behind Dorian, Idrillas went to Anuiras bed and sat down next to her. Sighing, he looked at her. She looked so peaceful, so full of life and it was hard to believe she was in mortal danger. His wandering gaze found her left arm, studying the faintly glowing green vine’s snaking their way around it until they disappeared above her elbow under her sleeve. He picked up her hand and pressed it between the two of his, feeling the pulsing hum of raw magic as he closed his eyes and focused only on her. Of their memories together. Good times, bad times and really fun times. He went through them all in his mind, trying to will Anuira back to him.

He must have fallen asleep somewhere along the line because the next thing he remembered was being gently lifted of the bed by two strong arms. He tried to protest but found he was too drained, too tired and the arms too strong as they held him.

“Easy now, gorgeous. The mark is dangerous business and you held on for a long time. It almost drained you dry.” he heard a familiar voice say.

“Dorian?” he managed to force through his lips and it was barely more than a whisper.

“Yes, now quit squirming while I put you to bed. You need to rest.” Dorian reprimanded with a tone that had Idrillas ears go pink even in his tired state. Was the mage actually calling him gorgeous and sounding loving? As opposed to the usual exuberant tone dripping with sarcasm and self-importance that drove Idrillas up the walls. He felt his heart skip a beat at the notion but his mind was too tired to stay focused on the conundrum being Dorian.  
The Tevinter smelled like spices, lyrium and mild soap, a scent very much agreeing with Idrillas who sighed unconsciously after drawing a long comforting breath. He could hear the heart-beat and feel the warmth of the mage even through the fabric of their clothes. It felt nice. More than nice. And in his dazed state he forgot himself, happily snuggling up against Dorians chest, enjoying the embrace.

Too soon Idrillas felt himself being carefully placed in what must be his bed and the warmth of the mage faded quickly. He found he didn’t want the warmth to go away. He was starved of attension – body and soul – and those strong arms felt much too good to pass up. A series of disgruntled noises made it passed Idrillas lips as his hands instinctively clutches the fabric of the mage’s clothes when he attempted to get up and leave.  
The young elf’s obvious displeasure with Dorians actions had the mage chuckle softly before he sank back down to lie on the bed. He watched in amusement as Idrillas snuggled up against his chest once more, sighing with contentment.

Dorian had been attracted to the tiny, hotheaded elf since he first laid eyes on him but as usual he hadn’t acted upon those feelings. He’d even been thankful when he figure out the elf had the same preference as himself, but he still hadn’t managed to get close to him. Idrillas had always been more than guarded around people as far as Dorian knew. Careful never to touch, to never even get close if he could avoid it. So to be allowed to see the gorgeous elf this content with being so close to him made his heart swell. Dorian reached to brush a stray lock of hair away from the elf’s face and felt Idrillas lean into his touch. That did it, he couldn’t help himself. _‘Damn the consequences.’_ Dorian thought as he tilted Idrillas face to gain easier access to those enticing rosy lips of his.

The kiss was sweet at first, soft and searching. Until the elf’s limbs wound themselves around the mage in a sultry manner and his young lips turned demanding. Dorian almost lost his head as the kiss depend. Their tongues tasting, exploring and warring for control in between nips and breaths. Idrillas tasted of herbs, smelled like the woods where he usually spent all his free time and felt wonderful against the starved body of the mage. There hadn’t been anyone to hold Dorians attention for a long time now – not since Iron Bull and he broke it off – and this lanky elf was far too gorgeous and far, far too eager under Dorians touch for his own good.

A heated moan against his lips brought Dorian back to reality. He broke of the kiss and withdrew a small distance to gather his head again. Much to Idrillas obvious discontentment as the mage almost had to ply the elf off. But Dorian dead set on getting Idrillas full attension before this became anything both of them would possibly regret. The elf had been half dead when he and Varric had found him beside Anuira, still clutching her hand in his. And this reaction could well be induced from Idrillas thinking in his hazed state that Dorian was someone else. That thought hurt a little more than Dorian was comfortable with and the irritation was a welcome reminder of reality.

“Idrillas, stop. Wake up.” he said sternly, once again catching and removing one of the elfs hands from his neck as the tiny thing whimpered in frustration, trying to pull him in for another kiss.

Idrillas eye’s snapped fully open at the sound of Dorians stern voice and he stared at him in confused shock while seemingly taking in the situation. The elf blushed all the way to the tips of those inviting, pointed ears before he briefly met the mage’s gray, gaze.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t…” Idrillas mumbled turning his still blushing face to stare at the wall with something close to hurt or shame painted on his features. Dorian decided he didn’t like the look on the elf’s face and he found he most certainly didn’t like the pang of hurt it sparked in his chest as he thought Idrillas might be repulsed by what they’d done.

“You, my dear elf, have nothing to be sorry for.” Dorian said, protecting himself by lapsing back into his normal nonchalance as he rolled off the elf and got to his feet.

“It’s not your fault I’m just **that** handsome.” he continued flirtily, flashing a cocky, confident grin at the still blushing elf. But Idrillas was pointedly staring into that Maker forsaken wall and Dorian felt himself wanting to shake the elf for ignoring him. _‘Well that’s what you get for being stupid.’_ Dorian thought angrily to himself as he turned to leave, bidding the young hunter a good night.

Instead of heading back to his quarters Dorian headed to Anuiras room. Better to check in on her and Varric rather than tossing and turning in his bed with a head buzzing with unwelcome images of things out of his reach. He spent some time catching up with the humorous dwarf, sharing a bottle of wine while reminiscing about the ‘good ol’ days’.   
Elgar’nan made a quick appearance just before Dorian opened the second bottle of wine, nearly startling Varric out of his wits in the process. He and Dorian then spent a good amount of time explaining to the dwarf what Anuiras situation really was like and why.

“Well… shit.” Varric said, rubbing his chin after hearing the story as he looked from Dorian to the supposed elf god crammed into the body of his friend.

“Have I mentioned the shit that happens to you, errrh, **her** , is crazy?” he continued, looking pointedly at Elgar’nan.

“Several times now.” the spirit chuckled in his borrowed voice before he settled into listening to the banter between the Tevinter and the dwarf. He found the peculiar ring of friends Anuira had to be oddly charming. None even batting an eye at his nature or origin and all of them getting along despite their obvious differences. It was a far cry from his own time, where brother warred against brother, parent against child and lovers against lovers.

“You ok there sparkles?” Varric asked, bringing Elgar’nan back to the present. The dwarf’s voice was tinted with worry as he eyed the unusually pale mage.

“Oh it’s nothing. Just a little worse for wear after sleeping in a chair for the last week or so.” Dorian chuckled, waving off his friends concern.

“Then you go sleep and I’ll keep an eye on our friend here.” Varric said with a nod towards the elf.

“Yes you should take care of yourself. You know Anuira will have your head otherwise.” Elgar’nan smirked.

“Only if someone tells her.” Dorian shot back in mirth, sharing a laugh with the two friends before accepting the opportunity to sleep in a real bed for once.

Rounding the corner of the narrow hallway leading to his room, he yawned and stretched. A warm, soft, nice bed was going to be heaven to his battered body. Dorian locked the door behind him and began sleepily opening the clasps to his intricate battle-mage armor. He thought about leaving the armor-pieces where they fell but his upbringing prevented him from it. It was only going to make it a hassle in the morning, not to mention it would wrinkle the fabric. He put the folded armor neatly on commode and stacked his boots beside it – leaving him in his leather legging’s – before turning to the basin to wash up.  
The sight that met him in the mirror as he looked up from washing his face had him stopping cold in his tracks before spinning around, almost knocking the basin to the ground.

“Idrillas!” he exclaimed as he looked at the elf curled up on his bed, sleeping soundly.

The elf shot up straight, eyes wide and hair in a disheveled mess. As his deep-blue gaze met Dorians confused grey one, he flushed red in an instant.

“I.. I.. uhm..” Idrillas stammered, looking down to the sheets. Realizing where he was he jumped up of the bed as if it was made of poison. He shot a panicked glance at the mage before eyeing the door, fidgeting with a leather strap as he backed away.

“Why are you here? Did something happen?” Dorian wondered, suddenly concerned the guards was bothering the elf again. They had been a pest since the incident the other night, not outright harassing the elf but not far from it. Not all of the guards, but still a few more than was acceptable and Sebastian had a hard time keeping everyone in line since the pressure of the still oncoming Tevinter invasion was still felt everywhere. There had been several attempts on the king’s life since the battle for Wildervale and tension was running high.

“No.. no… just… I thought… we…” Idrillas put his face in his hand with a strangled noise of frustration, hiding his raging blush as his back came up against the door.

“We, what?” Dorian heard himself ask, not daring to hope what he thought the elf might say. Not even as his body moved to stand in front of the squirming elf, did he let his feature’s slip from their carefully schooled neutral expression. He didn’t let himself touch the elf, didn’t let himself reveal anything other than what he was willing to loose. And that, to be honest wasn’t much at the moment. He eyed the elf warily, waiting for the reply he wasn’t sure he wanted.

“Are you toying with me?” Idrillas voice was barely more than a shaky whisper, but it was enough. A warm, smile spread over Dorians features and all the apprehension Dorian had felt, all the uncertainty, drained away in a matter of seconds. He pulled the hands from Idrillas almost panic-stricken face, pinning the shorter elf to the wall with his body, forcing the elf to look at him as he laced their fingers together.

“I **never** toy with important things.” Dorian said before softly meeting his lips to the blushing hunters.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anuira's back! And Idrillas and Dorian is "found out". =P
> 
> .
> 
> I decided NOT to include anything heavy M/M in this story, only fluffy things. But if someone would like it to be written out I'm not opposed to the idea of writing those part in a separate "Story". Tell me what you want and I will try to oblige =)
> 
> .
> 
> Enjoy!

Anuira disclosed as much as she possibly could to both Elgar’nan and Dirthamen before she left to rejoin her friends in the waking world. But she still left them with more questions than actual answers and made a silent promise to Elgar’nan to tell him all about it at a later date.  
She left Elgar’nan and Cole with Dirthamen, since both the ancient being and Cole could return at any given time. She couldn’t explain it, she just instinctively knew that the limitations of her mortal body was no longer an issue, leaving Elgar’nan more freedom to the fade as he could tap into her powers as she could his. She felt her connection to the fade, she felt a constant thrum of magic in her veins and she just knew.

Cole was bound to her and had been since she was born. But it was not until she came in contact with the Foci that split open the fade, causing the breach as well as the mark of magic on her left hand, that he had really felt the pull of their bond. And now with the powers of Falon’Din released into Anuira’s system, both of them could feel the bond plain as day. She would always be able to tell where he was and he her. He needn’t fear forgetting who he was anymore, the bond would always keep him tethered, safe and secure.

Anuira awoke to the sight of a ceiling in a dimly lit room in what she supposed was Starkhaven Castle from what Elgar’nan had told her. There was no light coming from the only window in the room and she surmised it must be night. Looking around she found Varric asleep in a chair next to her and the sight warmed her heart, making her smile. The trusty dwarf had always been there for her, in his own - sometimes very peculiar – way and seeing him now reminded her that she was not alone. Not in any sense of the word. Cullen might have run off to creators knows where, scared and cowering due to matters out of his understanding. But others was still there.

Her hand tentatively went to her stomach and she was instantly aware of the emptiness there. The life she had harbored was gone. And in its place could now only be found a huge scar, both on her body and soul. A few tears escaped from the corner of her eyes, trailing their way down her temples into her hair just above her ears. Even if the child had survived the wounds it would not have survived the massive release of energy that came with her transformation as Falon’Din’s powers rebuilt her. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less. The child was never meant to survive, she knew that, but it still made her heart ache with loss.

Shaking herself out of her slump she sat up, testing her limbs one by one for any signs of weakness, but found none. She felt like she was brimming with energy and she itched to get up and do just about anything.  
Her left arm thrummed more than the rest of her, with the raw energy seemingly snaking every which way in her very skin. She had heard about these types of markings from Hawke as he told her about his old companion Fenris. Fenris markings had supposedly hurt just as much as Anuiras had once they started appearing. It must have to do with being mortal because now they didn’t bother her at all and other than the constant humming of magic she was only a little stiff.

Swinging her legs over the bedside, she got up and carefully untangled the blanket from her bed before tippy-toing over to the sleeping dwarf. She gently tucked him in and to her mild surprise he didn’t wake.  
She gathered up the glasses and bottles standing on a side-table next to the sleeping dwarf and quietly made her way out of the room. As she closed the door and began down the hallway it hit her that she didn’t actually know the interior of this castle. She paused briefly before shrugging, deciding to ask the first person she met for directions. And besides, the kitchen was usually downstairs, and often away from the living-areas.

Rounding the corner occupied with her own thoughts she ran head-long into a patrolling guard. The man yelped as they collided and fell backwards, landing on his armored behind with a confused look on his face.

“Ir abelas!” Anuria exclaimed as she scrambled to steady herself on her feet. She put her burden down on a nearby side-table and offer the man her arm to help him up. The guard didn’t move, he only stared at her with an angry scowl that told her that he would sooner cut of his own arm then let her take hold of it. She raised an eyebrow at this, looking to her arm as she wondered what was so upsetting about it. The glowing veins of green that snaked their way around her hand and arm had her sighing as realization hit her. Of course he would be reluctant to take hold of that arm. She let her arm fall to her side, giving the guard an apologetic smile while he picked himself off the ground.

“You could at least have the decency to apologize _elf_ …” the guard sneered at her. Something in the tone of the guard irked Anuira and his way of insinuating she had not apologized made her want to smack him upside the head with one of the bottles.

“I mean no disrespect but I did apologize, I even offered to help you. You should not fault me for speaking my language on instinct nor should you fault me for your lack of courage to take the offered help.” She replied frostily.

“You should be glad I do not throw you in a cell, _mage_ …” the guard spat at her with such contempt she was actually taken aback. But seconds later a dangerous smile spread across her face as she thought _‘Two can play this game my friend and I have the upper hand by far.’_

“I’d like to see you try, _shem’len_ …” Anuira retorted with a wicked gleam of dark mirth in her eyes.

~.o.O.o.~

Idrillas was dragged back to consciousness by a muted crash from beyond the door. He always was a light sleeper. Blinking a few times he cleared his head from the fog of sleep only to start as he realized where he was. Tangled in his limbs was that infuriating Tevinter, sleeping soundly still. Idrillas blushed as memory of the night rushed back to him. He had no idea the mage could be so gentle, so loving and true. He’d written Dorian off as an insufferable, detached egomaniac, but it seemed that was only scratching the surface. He studied the golden-skinned man beside him, noting the tousled hair, those full lips and the muscular body.

Idrillas marveled at the patience of the mage. He had really taken his time to let Idrillas adjust to what was happening. There had been no rushing, no half-measures, only careful exploration until they were both sure about the situation. The elf’s heart felt like it was about to implode. Never in a million years had he thought to find happiness, much less in the arms of a human and a Tevinter magister at that. He was just about to steal a kiss and snuggle up comfortably to the mage’s chest when voices reached his ear, reminding him of why he’d woken up in the first place.

His thoughts immediately went to Anuira. What if something had happened!? The thought had him detangle himself from the very disgruntled Tevinter in a hurry. Dorian rolled muttering onto his side and continued his sleep while Idrillas threw on his leggings before making his way to the door to see what all the fuss was about.

Opening the door had him standing face to face with a very angry guard, a guard he hated with a passion since the other day when they had clashed for no other reason than him being an elf, daring to protect another elf. This guard was racist beyond sanity and Idrillas could feel his blood boil just at the sight of the man.

“You!” the guard said raising his voice at the sight of the white-haired elf.

“Skulking outside my door… getting desperate are we?” Idrillas snorted as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. The guard turned several shades deeper red at the insinuation, glaring daggers at the elf but didn’t say anything.

“You two know each other?” a familiar voice wondered from behind the door making Idrillas jump in surprise. He peeked around the door, certain his ears betrayed him but there she was. Waving at him as his features became visible from behind the door and smiled as she looked him over.

“You’re awake!!” Idrillas almost shouted in happiness and jumped at the tiny elven woman. Sweeping her off her feet in a spinning hug he laughed while she giggled slightly. The guard’s presence was momentarily forgotten, to his dismay.

“What is all this ruckus at this ungodly hour?” a sleepy voice muttered from the door, having both elves and the guards turn their heads.

“Ohooo? You really meant what you said about taking care of him didn’t you, isa’ma’lin?” Anuira snickered at the sight of Dorian clad in only a sheet around his waist, coming out of the same room as Idrillas. Dorians head snapped up at the voice of his best friend, instantly wide awake. He laughed as he caught the tiny elf launching herself into his arms while Idrillas stood blushing beside them.

“I will have you all arrested for disorderly behavior!” the guards suddenly exploded behind the happy trio. All three turned their eyes to the fuming guard.

“And how, my good ser, is our behavior disorderly?” Dorian replied still holding the tiny Anuira in his arms. The guard pointed to Idrillas and then over to Dorian.

“We do not condone _that_ and most certainly not with one of their kind. It’s not natural! Not in the eyes of the Maker! Shameful!” The guards sputtered angrily.

“I suggest you run along before you hurt yourself on words that are too big for you.” Dorian suggested, letting go of Anuira to pull Idrillas flush to his side. He kissed the elf’s blushing cheek in a display that really showed how much the mage had changed over the years. The guard looked on wide-eyed before stomping of in a flurry of curses and the promise of telling the king on them for their filthy behavior.

“Well, that was…” Anuira broke of and sighed, looking over to the two men at her side.

“I’m happy for you.” she continued instead smiling at the two.

“Yes well I had to work for it, he’s almost as stubborn as you!” Dorian teased with a huge grin on his face, making Idrillas groan while hiding his raging blush in his hands.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The make up and break up of Anuira and Cullen.
> 
> .
> 
> Enjoy!

There was a heavy commotion coming from Anuiras room when the happy trio got back from their very early morning trip to the kitchens. Idrillas looked warily from Dorian to Anuira as the sound of raised voices reached them from beyond the door to the room. Dorian's features darkened and Anuira pressed her lips into a hard line when they recognized one of the voices. The elf made a beeline for the door but Dorian stopped her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he said carefully, voice full of concern. Idrillas looked confused between the two friends until the male voice once again rang loudly from behind the door.

"I need to see her!" the ex-templar shouted and was answered by Varric.

"Why? So you can finish the job?"

"Enough! Both of you!" A stern female voice rang loud.

"As much as I disagree with his previous choices I have to agree with him on this. It was his child as well, at least let them have closure." another female voice – heavy with accent – said, making Varric scoff and mutter something that didn't make it through the thick door.

Anuira looked determined at Dorian and nodded before she stepped forward to open the door. As the door creaked open, all eyes went to her and everyone went silent, waiting for her reaction. There stood not only Cullen and Varric but Cassandra and Leliana as well. Cullen looked everywhere but at Anuira, unable to hold her demanding gaze, while Cassandra and Leliana both shared features painted with wariness and concern. Varric mostly looked annoyed, having his arms crossed over his chest, glaring disappointedly over at Cullen.

Anuria went over to embrace Leliana and Cassandra alike, exchanging a few heartwarming words of relief before she asked them to leave her alone with Cullen. The ex-templar stiffened at the words and his features became pained as he looked to the wall opposite from her.

"Dorian, Varric and Idrillas can fill you in on what has happened." Anuira said before Cassandra or Leliana could object.

"You sure about this?" Varric asked, wrenching his gaze away from Cullen to look tiredly at the elf. She nodded at him with a sad smile and hoped it conveyed the thanks she felt for him being concerned for her sake. Everyone filed out of the room, one by one, until only Cullen was left – looking very uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of Anuira.

"Why did you come here?" Anuria asked, trying her best to keep the bitterness she felt out of her voice. Cullen closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He tried to look at her but failed. His gaze landed on the floor in front of him and he fingered nervously with the hilt of his sword. The tension in the room was so thick one could cut it with a knife but Anuira didn't move, didn't take her eyes of Cullen and almost forgot to breathe from all the suspense.

"Is it true?" the ex-templar managed to force out of his uncooperative throat. The question came out as a strangled whisper but it didn't pass Anuira unnoticed. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is what true?" she replied frostily.

"The rumors…" Cullen started but choked on his own words as his windpipe spasmed shut from the tension in his body. He finally raised his pleading eyes to meet the elf's cold, sea-green stare and the sadness she could see reflected in those warm amber eyes had her heart soften. She didn't recoil as he approached her and as he came to a halt in front of her, just short of touching, she couldn't find it in her heart to back away from him. He who had held her heart, her love and in deep inbred fear had tossed it all to the curb. Despite it all she found she couldn't stay angry, she felt only pity and sadness.

"You need to be more specific than that, there are a lot of rumors bouncing around about me." Anuira said gently, still holding the ex-templars pained gaze.

Cullen fought his uncooperative body but couldn't get the bitter words out of his mouth. It felt like he was going to throw up at any second from the exertion, but his throat stayed painfully dry and silent. He lowered his gaze to her stomach and gingerly grazed it with only the very tip of his fingers in an attempt to convey his unspoken question and the motion had Anuiras eyes slam shut as she sucked her stomach in on sheer reflex. A wave of intense sorrow engulfed her where she stood and only through a massive amount of willpower, did she remain standing.

The one circumstance she had hoped would never see the light of day had made its way past the castle walls.

She was abruptly brought back to the present by a choked sob accompanied by a rustling thud. Opening her eyes she found Cullen on his knees before her, head in his hands and weeping in misery while he choked on the same line over and over.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…" he chanted. And to her surprise she felt her own pain lessen ever so slightly at the sight of her heartbroken former lover. She was not alone in her grief.

Fear could make people do terrible things. She knew that from firsthand experience. And she found, to her own surprise, that she couldn't stay bitter with Cullen for acting on his instincts. She knew he was broken when they met, just as he knew she was bestowed with some semblance of magic. None of them was at fault, but at the same time both of them was at fault. Both of them was responsible for this unfortunate turn of events and both of them had to bear the burden of consequences.

A sad smile spread on her face as she crouched down in front of the broken man she once called fiancé.

"It is not your fault." She said, gently pulling the ex-templar into an embrace as tears found their way down her cheeks. He clung to her as if she was the last breathe keeping him alive and she held him while his entire frame was wracked with heartrending sobs of pain and regret.

None of them knew how long they stayed that way but eventually Cullen's breath evened out and their tears ran dry. They stayed in the embrace even after they wave of sorrow had past, enjoying the last remnants of their love before breaking apart.

"Dare I ask for you to forgive me?" Cullen asked averting his nervous gaze to the floor once more.

"I already have." Anuira answered truthfully, cupping his cheek to force him to look at her.

"But before you ask anything else I must tell you something." She continued before the ex-templar could open his mouth.

"We… us… can no longer be. Your fear chains you and will forever haunt us if we stay together. I am no longer mortal, I am elvhen. A being of magic, like my ancestors before me." Anuira continued, seeing the hope flee from those usually warm amber eyes.

"I will always love you 'ma soun vheraan. But my place is with my people." _('ma soun vheraan = my strong lion)_ she finished with a small smile, still holding the ex-templars cheek to make him look at her. To force him to see the truth in her eyes, that there was no malice or lie in her words.

It took a long moment as he searched her features but eventually he gave her a nod accompanied with a rueful smile. He knew she was speaking the truth and accepted it.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, I'l sorry about the delay in the release of this chapter. There were alot of threads to solve. People to connect and upcoming things to plan for so that this story will make as much sense as possible in the future.  
> .  
> So how do the comrades in arms tackle the Somnoborium's hold over Nevarra? And say hello to yet another key character for the rest of the story. Can you guess who?  
> .  
> Enjoy!

“But…” Cullen tried but Anuira cut him off with a stern look.

“No, we can’t attack Nevarra head on, too many civilians will get caught in the crossfire. We’ll have to sneak in. Leliana, can your spies get me in?” she said looking pointedly at the spymaster after shooting Cullen down.

“Of course Inquisitor.” the redhead replied with a tiny nod.

“I’m not Inquisitor anymore.” Anuira reminded with a wry smile.

“For some, you will always be Inquisitor.” Cassandra interjected matter-of-factly.

“Yes, it’s like one of those pesky nicknames one never gets rid of.” Dorian chuckled, shooting a mock-annoyed glance towards Varric who mouthed _‘what?’_ in obvious amusement.

“So who’s going with you?” Idrillas wondered, turning his and everyone else’s attension back to his clan-sister.

“I’m going alone…” Anuira announced, closing her eyes as she readied herself for the shit-storm she was about to receive. She knew her friends would not let her go without a fight but she also knew she had the best chance of pulling of the mission covertly if she did go alone.  
As she expected, almost every one of her friend voiced their objections – Idrillas, Dorian, Cullen and Varric even Cassandra joined them. The only one who saw reason was Leliana who was used to thinking outside her own wants and feelings. Varric begrudgingly had to switch sides and agree after listening to Anuira’s reasoning.

They couldn’t risk open war with Nevarra. Especially since they knew the nation had been influenced heavily by the Somnoborium. The only option left to them was sneaking into the castle and removing the agents of the Tevinter supremacists covertly. A group would draw attension even if smuggled inside the Nevarran castle and of them all, Anuira had the best possible odds with her new abilities as well as the help from both Cole and Elgar’nan. Technically she would not even be alone, but people around her would think she was. Not to mention she was an elf and could pass for a servant with ease.

Idrillas of course heatedly argued that he too could easily pass for a servant but that only served to make Anuira break up into violent snickering.

“Dreadwolf take you! What’s so funny!!” he growled after a while, scowling at Anuira who still snickered as she leaned on the table they all had gathered around. The others tried, and mostly failed, to hide their own amusement - well, all except Dorian. He laughed heartily together with Anuira at his indignant lover.

“You lie about as well as a dwarf flies.” Anuria managed to huff in between fits of giggle.

“Fenedhis lasa!” _(equal to ‘fuck you’ in this case.)_ Idrillas spat grumpily at her. His eyes narrowing to slits as he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

“Ir abelas lethal’lin. But you know I speak the truth. You are much to honest for infiltration such as this.” _(I’m sorry, brother/clan mate.. etc)_ Anuira amended, finally getting a handle on herself. Idrillas sighed as his features fell. He knew she was right. He was much too emotional for infiltration, blushed too easily and got flustered when lying.   
He felt an arm going around his waist as he was pulled flush to someone’s side. The whitehaired elf looked up in surprise and met Dorian warm grey eyes, full of mischief and he could feel an unwelcome blush creep up his neck and cheeks.

“See, much too obvious for infiltration-work Amatus.” Dorian smirked, obviously pleased with himself, while stifled snickering once again erupted around the room.

~.o.O.o.~

 

“You, do not belong here. Leave…” the elf hissed through clenched teeth as he held the cold steel edge of his dagger against the quivering throat of the Tevinter spy, currently trying to sneak into Skyhold.

“How…” the spy whispered back in clear surprise, discretely reaching for something inside his coat. He froze as the cold steel of the elf’s dagger broke skin and a small trickle of blood found its way down to the hem of his silken shirt.

“I do not like to repeat myself.” the elf with the iron-grip of the spy’s jaw hissed from behind as the cold steel once again pressed closer in a warning. The trickle of blood increased and caused the stain on the spy’s shirt to widen. The spy tried to slam his head back into his captor. Simultaneously he tried to twist away from the iron-grasp holding his head and grab the weapon he had concealed in the lining of his coat, but he fail miserably.

Too late he realized his captor was not only stronger, but faster. The cold steel of that offending dagger slid silently and effortlessly over his throat. Cutting deep, removing every option to scream for help or even to voice the agony as the spy slumped gurgling to the ground, vainly clutching at his throat. He quickly bled out, there on the battlements he just recently scaled with such pride and the last thing his closing eyes registered before going devoid of life, was the pale face of a cloaked elf with amber eyes staring mercilessly at him. The green vallaslin becoming just barely visible as the elf’s face was momentarily brightened with the light from the pale moon peeking out from behind a stray cloud in the night sky.

“Ase tel’amahn. Rajathe’en?” _(She is not here. Orders?)_ A silvery voice said from the nearby shadows. The elf slowly turn as he slid his dagger back in its sheath after cleaning it off on the clothes of the now dead spy.

“El’u’sha ethaan Tarasyl'an Te'las. Ju’tuan esayal vena ash.” _(Secretly protect Skyhold. I will keep trying to find her.)_ the pale elf answered in a low voice before slinking away into the shadows.

~o.O.o.~

 

Her heart was pounding in her chest and sweat was beginning to pearl on her forehead as she quickly made her way towards her quarters in the Castle. She knew she was followed, as she intended, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins was still merciless. Closing the door behind her as she entered the servant’s quarters, she mentally prepared herself for the scuffle to come.

It had been Elgar’nan’s idea to draw the attension of the Somnoborium-agents. Making them come after her and in the process revealing themselves. It was much easier than going after them all one by one.

Anuira had been infiltrating the Nevarran Castle for over a month now. Slowly and painstakingly plotting out the best course of action. Taking notes on who was corrupt and who was not. She’d even managed to make some agents die by “accidents”. Like the disastrous alchemic explosion in the magic ward that took out four agents in the blast. Then there was that one agent who “accidentally” choked on a chicken bone. A very, very poisonous chicken bone. And not to mention the poor guy who died of a severe allergic reaction while making love to his mistress who had “accidentally” eaten shellfish that day. Of course she did not know that her perfume also happened to be spiked with shellfish-oil.

All these little accidents, planned and carried out in perfection by the trio being Elgar’nan, Anuira and Cole. But it was slow and tedious work and the Somnoborium was many in numbers.

During the scramble of the Inquisition when the breach was still a threat, Markus Pentaghast had been supposedly liberated from the influence of the Venatori who had him under a mind-spell. Unfortunately it seemed, that had not been the case. Markus was corrupt and deep in bed with the Tevinter supremacists. But of course he had had to save face when the Inquisition revealed the plans to sell out the Mortalitasi’s precious Grand Necropolis all those years ago. But now he was once again plotting with the Tevinter’s to gain land, favor and riches.

From what Anuira and Cole had gathered, the King had been promised the nation of Orlais and with it the mineral rich Blasted Hills that Nevarra once had lost to the hated nation due to leadership incompetence. The price was the kingdoms magic military force and that meant giving up the Mortalitasi as well as their tombs. The accord could not be made public since that would cause the Mortalitasi to rebel but the King and his Somnoborium where plotting in secret. Replacing the leaders of the Mortalitasi with Somnoborium agents, slowly but surely and being very careful. In a few years the Mortalitasi would be completely under Tevinter control and the Somnoborium would be one step closer to their goal. Total domination of Thedas as well as monopoly of all things magic.

The sound of the creaking door, slung Anuira back into the present and she silently cursed her minds wandering. It was something that happened frequently since her transformation and she guessed it was due to the fact that her brain had still not categorized all the fragmented memories of her, or rather Falon’Din’s, past.

Shaking her head slightly to clear it, she focused solely on the door as she readied her daggers as well as magic. Elgar’nan was discontent at not being able to help. Without a body to channel nourishment and mana through he would only burn himself out and Anuira clearly needed her own body for the moment. He would have to settle for pouring his powers into hers, boosting her spells as he guarded her back with his years of battle-experience.

Next to her, she felt the familiar turbulence of air and magic as Cole appeared.

“Ready?” She whispered without taking her sea-green eyes of the door and she knew he nodded his response. She could actually feel his consent through their bond and she smiled.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever goes ackording to plan. A castle gets blown partly to smithereens, someone jumps out a window and a commoner becomes king.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES YES YES!!! Finally I got my brain to atleast momentarily work with me. A new chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

Everything that could go wrong apparently decided to go wrong.

The Somnoborium for some reason did not flood the room, forcing Anuira and Cole to fight longer and more desperately than intended. Elgar'nan was distraught but could do nothing more than look on as Anuira was pressed towards her limit. He had promised not to separate from her to help since he in spirit-form only had a limited number of attacks before his strength ran out. And if he reentered Anuira in a drained state he would in turn drown her in his fatigue. That was not entirely a welcome scenario on top off the already dire situation.

Desperately Anuira realized she had to put the plan in motion even if it wouldn't wipe all the enemies in one blow. Some would be shielded by walls against the blast and would have time to flee but she had no choice. Soon her strength would wane under the heavy onslaught of enemies and the extremely poor fighting-conditions in the quarters. So she slung up a fierce firewall and a massive barrier before sprinting for the window. Hurtling herself out of the window she twisted her body in the process so she fell back first. In that position she could launch the necessary fireball before she hit the water.

She smirked as the fireball left her hands and ran through the rest of the plan as she waited for the inevitable boom and splash. Once she landed she would get out of the small pool, redress in her armor hidden beneath the bushes in a sheltered alcove and then make her way to the Kings chambers to arrest the traitor. She would enjoy revealing his well-covered schemes to the entire Nevarran nation and watch them turn on the old man.

The boom came as predicted, as the fireball lit up every explosive potion she had hidden away in the servants quarters. But, there was no splash. There was no water what so ever. Only the razor-sharp pain of hard stone connecting to soft tissue followed by the loud crackling of shattering bones. Then there was nothing.

The next thing she knew she was being gently coaxed awake by the silvery voice of Dirthamen.

"Lethal'lan? Lethal'lan! Ea son?" _(Dear friend? Dear friend! Are you ok?)_ Anuria blinked a couple of times in response, trying to get her eyes to focus.

"Tel'eolasan…" _(I don't know…)_ she croaked while heaving herself up into sitting position.

"Did you get yourself injured again?" Dirthamen berated with a light scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest and lapsing into speaking Kingstongue. A habit he had picked up from her as they spent a lot of time together. She and Elgar'nan was the only two persons in thousands of years to speak to him and they never left him alone for too long. Something he was eternally grateful for.

"I…" Anuira paused, rubbing her head.

"Yea, think I did." She smiled sheepishly while taking his offered hand and got up to her feet.

"I wish you wouldn't do that…" Dirthamen said, almost sulking where he stood looking at the elf rogue through his lashes. She never understood why he did that. He knew she was at war with the world. That she would eventually end up hurt one way or the other. But he still pouted when she did get hurt. No matter how small an injury.

"You know it's sometimes unavoidable. I… I just wish I could remember what in the void happened this time." Anuira scrunched up her nose while trying to force her memory to return.

"You don't remember? Lethal'lan… That is not a good sign. And considering your current location in Nevarra, an even worse sign. What if you …" Anuria looked at him sternly. Holding up her hand to stop him from uttering his next set of words. She was more than aware of her predicament but there was not much she could do at the moment. Jinxing her by pointing out the obvious was not ideal and something she would rather avoid.

Before either of them could say anything further she froze. Her eyes widened in distress as she looked around. There was something missing. Her brain caught up to the unnerving fact that someone usually interrupted their bickering by now but instead there was only silence. She spun to really get a good look at the luscious green clearing being Dirthamens prison and she searched her mind but came up with nothing. Elgar'nan was not there. He usually followed her if she went asleep or lost consciousness but now she could not even sense his being. Panic struck her full force. What had happened?!

"Anuira?" Dirthamens tentative voice broke through her internal panic-attack and snapped her back to the present. She looked at him with a worried frown painted across her face and the ancient elf took her hands in his in a silent plea for her to tell him what was wrong.

"He's not here…" She said meeting the worried green eyes of Dirthamen with her own. The worry deepened and was stained with a bit of confusion.

"Nuvenan dara vegara!" _(I need to go back!)_ Anuira deadpanned, panic now written clearly across her features.

~.o.O.o.~

The King was dead. Sebastian could hardly believe his ears at the news brought by the previous spymaster of the Inquisition. The King of Nevarra, dead. Murdered in his bed after an entire wing of the palace had been blown to the void and with it more than half the "guard" of the entire palace. The elf had done it. That tiny bundle of mayhem had actually pulled it off! Marcus Pentaghast and his riffraff of Somnoborium was finally no more and with them gone, the cult would have no choice but to retreat to Tevinter.

"So who's taking the throne now?" Sebastian inquired with sparkling eyes.

"As far as we know Ferdinand Pentaghast is next in line. But he only intends to rule for a short while and if the rumors are true he'll be turning the entire kingdom up-side-down with a rather unorthodox reform." the spymaster answered with a small smirk.

"Reform? Tell me what you heard." the former chantry-brother was intrigued. Ferdinand was well known for his outlandish ideas as well as his disdain for ruling.

"He intends to break the Pentaghast's and Van Markham's hold on Nevarra by crowning a Forsythia. And not just any Forsythia. Tessarey Forsythia."

Sebastian's eyes was wide as dinner-plates by this point and he took a while to let the information sink in. The legendary Tessa Forsythia, handler of the mage-killer Marius of Tevinter. She was the one who went against all social norms of the nobles and was more or less disowned for it. She climbed down the social-ladder that many was desperately scrambling to climb up and not only did she fight for the common man, she joined them and as far as he knew she loved one. That was going to have Nevarra in a twist for quite some time Sebastian mused internally before motioning for Leliana to continue.

"To placate the Pentaghast's and Van Markham's Ferdinand intends to offer them advisory positions to the throne. Or if they refuse a humiliating public trial for their treason. The treason being that many in the families had knowledge about the corruption but did nothing to stop it. And if my sources are correct the reason he has for choosing Tessa as his successor is not only that she cares for others than herself, but that she is in love with and on her way to marry Marius who is now rather respected in Tevinter even though he's a former slave. Ferdinand is probably hoping to solidify a steady if yet frail peace with Tevinter."

Sebastian was grinning widely at the news. Finally there would be a sane person on the thrown of the neighboring kingdom. Trade could maybe once again flow freely and without ire.

"And what of the elf?!" Sebastian said merrily, trying his damndest not to sound as much in awe as he was. This was all thanks to her, mage though she was he still owed her a boatload of gratitude for saving his people and making peace an alternative.

"We… we don't know." Leliana's voice darkened and almost faltered. And just like that, in an instant, that pleasant happy-feeling that had settled over Sebastian's senses went abruptly cold. He stared in silent shock at the spymaster who was hiding her features in her cowl. This was not good. His thoughts was cut off by a rather large crash as the doors to the throne-room shot wide open with almost violent force. He waved off the scrambling guards before they even had a mind to draw their weapons. He knew the culprits well by now.

"What is the meaning of holding this meeting without us? Anuira means more to us than she ever did to you!? To you she's just a tool!" Dorian was storming inside the throne room with Idrillas scowling in a tow.

"I'm sorry." Leliana said bleakely, still hiding her face in her cowl and her voice betrayed her with the slightest of quivers.

"What do you mean you're sorry?!" Dorian sneered.

"No one has seen her since the explosion at the Nevarran castle." Leliana said matter-of-factly, betrayed once again only by a small shudder in her voice.

Everyone went dead silent. Idrillas held on to Dorian's hand like his life depended upon it and the mage returned the gesture as the silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity.

"Have your agents scoured the palace? Is it possible she got out? Have they found a body?" Sebastian was the one finding his voice first, it sounded tired, desperate and small.

"My agents have been everywhere. Searched through everything but the ashes of the destroyed wing. No body, no trace, nothing. It is possible Anuira escaped but we should have heard from her if that was so." The redhead schooled her features and looked up to meet the pained faces of the elfs friends.

"I'm sorry…"

Idrillas looked like he was about to shatter on the spot, clinging to Dorian as if that alone held him together. Dorian looked angrily at anything but Leliana or Sebastian as he squeezed Idrillas hand for strength not to fall apart himself.

The silence was deafening. The tension so thick it would have been an easy thing to cut it up and serve it for breakfast. Not even the arrival of Varric and Cullen broke the silence that pretty much spoke for itself. Any questions they held was rendered moot as soon as they laid eyes on the people occupying the throne-room.

A small whimper from the hallway cut momentarily through the heavy silence but few acknowledged it. Varric went to pat the small elven woman on the shoulder. Merrill had sunk to the ground, hand clasped firmly over her mouth as to stop any more sound from escaping and tears from her firmly pinched shut eyes was staining her cheeks. Hawke was right behind her as usual, holding the hand that was not clamping down on her mouth, while looking tired, worn and sad.

Granted the two mages had not had much time to get to know Anuira but never the less had she influenced them greatly. Not only because of everything she had done for them and everyone in Thedas, but because of everything Dorian, Varric and many, many others told them about her. The small things she did for people even if she was up to her neck in problems as it was. She always made time to lift the spirit of others, albeit sometimes very begrudgingly so.

"Keep looking." Cullen said sternly, breaking the pregnant silence and looking pointedly at Leliana. Anuira had done the impossible before Cullen and she was a couple. She did it again when they were a couple and then he lost her to impossible odds that she had unbelievably managed to overcome while he had not. He lost her again due to his own stupidity in the middle of a senseless war but still she managed to pull through and come out on top. He'd be damned if he gave up now. She would come back. Anything else was unthinkable he determined.

Leliana nodded firmly, seeming to understand the silent message in Cullens determined look and drawing strength from it.

A high pitched squealing scream sent everyone in the room jolting back to attension. Weapons were drawn in a heartbeat and everyone zoomed in on the person who was screaming in terror. Merrill was sitting pressed against the wall of the chamber, wide-eyed and both hands now firmly clasped over her mouth. Hawke was looming protectively over her, leaning towards Varric who stood between the two and someone crouching behind him. The person had a rather large hat and was peering around Varrics short stubby legs at the distressed elf.

"Easy there chuckles! The kid's not gonna hurt anyone!" Varric said in his best mediator voice.

"Cole!?" Leliana wondered as she sheathed her weapons again.

"Cole?" Sebastian and Idrillas echoed in confusion.

"What happened? Where is she? Please tell me she's alive!" Dorian was on his knees beside the boy in a blink of an eye.

"There was no water… she needs help… her help… healing…" Cole said with a hint of distress in his voice, pointing to Merrill while still looking at Dorian. Merrill instantly let go of any reluctance and crawled the short way to touch the young man's arm.

"Where is she?" The elf said in her kind squeaky voice. Cole looked at her hand before looking up to meet her eyes with one of his rare smiles. Then he lapsed back into his own little world, fiddling with the hem of his shirt while seemingly thinking.

"He doesn't trust people… wouldn't bring her here… The woods… it's not far."

"He? Who's he?" Leliana wondered being her normal suspicious self.

"Panathe'dhruelan…" _(Battle-Priest…)_ Cole deadpanned as he rose to his feet and started for the door.

"A what?" The question echoed from the mouths of Leliana, Sebastian and Hawke almost simultaneously and was mirrored in almost everyone's mind.

"Panathe… fight… battle… believer… Battle-priest?" Merrill mused out loud looking over her shoulder to Cole as he disappeared behind the doors of the throne-room. They didn't get much more out of the boy as he made his way towards the main gate of the caste with haste. They followed and deduced that the person most probably was an elf - judging by the elven title - and someone akin to a warrior as well as a priest or believer of something, if Merrills translation was anything to go by. Cole said nothing more on the subject, he only trudged on until he was past the main gate and then stopped to crouch and mutter.

"It's too loud… You're too loud… We can't be too many…"

Everyone wanted to rush to the side of their friend but it was decided that only Dorian and Idrillas would accompany Merrill and Cole to the camp where Anuira and her unknown savior was being holed up. They knew her best and would be able to assist in ways others would not.

Hawke had been reluctant about letting his wife run off into the wilderness without him but Merrill had calmed him. Claimed she wanted to go and sternly said she was more than capable of defending herself. She also reminded him that they had a son that needed tending to and if they both went to Anuira, their son would be left to be spoiled rotten by Varric. The two men smirked at that and Hawke relented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long delay in chapters. I am not only experiencing extreme writersblock in this story atm. I know where I'm headed story-wice, I have the end figured and some in betweens but my brain just does not get me there. Infuriating as hell but with resent events occuring in my life, it may not be that strange.
> 
> Death in the family, hospital stays and marrital problems. I've begun outlining the next few chapters, deciding on where to take the story and how to build it up to make it believable but that's as far as I have been able to take it.
> 
> I am working on it and I am so sorry that I make you all wait.
> 
> Thanks for all your support! Lots of love / Fnorpan


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's the battle-priest? Why's he with Anuira? And did she manage to make it back from the fade? 
> 
> OH! And there is some fluff building ^_^

“Mythal’enaste… din...” _(By the grace of Mythal… No…)_ the elfs whisper was barely audible over the cacophony of pain unfolding in front of him. His brain refused to accept what his eyes was telling him. That he hadn’t been fast enough or smart enough. He had been too late. A huge raging inferno was all that remained of the room, or rather the whole wing, to where he had tracked the person he sought. The one he was tasked with protecting. One of the most important people in the near history of Thedas and he failed her.

He had seen Anuira hurrying inside her quarters a little after nightfall and as Abelas closed in he noticed a large group of people approaching with weapons drawn. He had reacted almost on instinct, surprising the group from the flank and halting their onslaught. But there was no end to them. He couldn’t keep them from flooding the room his charge had disappeared into and he could hear the sound of fighting emanating from the room. While he focused on trying to fight his way to his charge the entire wing exploded in a deafening blast, sending him sprawling across the hallway, through a window and out onto the roof.

A multitude of feelings was now warring for control where he sat dazed and hidden among the shadows on the roof of the Nevarran Castle. He had lived so long, always following his orders to the letter and never failing. But now it seemed, the gods were cruel.

He wanted to scream, curse and break something but he couldn’t even manage to move, much less wreck the havoc he felt he really needed. This sensation of defeat was foreign to him and it paralyzed him.

 _“Even in chaos there is hope.”_ the memory of Mythal’s words echoed and bounced around his skull for a moment before it registered with the elf. As soon as the meaning found purchase in his dazed brain it had him leaping up and making his way swiftly towards the inferno. He looked around, examining every nook and cranny he saw and could get to while he painstakingly made his way towards the other side of the burning wing. The further he came the more a sound insisted on gathering his attention. Fighting he concluded, but where? He slunk through a window to search yet another seemingly empty room but the sound of fighting was coming from elsewhere. He followed the sounds of steel clashing against steel and the telltale sounds of a skirmish.

 _“Even in chaos…”_ Mythals words once again rang loudly in his head and Abelas cursed to himself while hurriedly making his way down to the green lawn of the castles garden.

The scuffle seemed to have died down when he finally made it to the bottom but he kept to the shadows in search for survivors. All he could see was strewn about, dead bodies. Not a single one was left even remotely breathing and all wounds looked like they had been executed with deadly precision and aim. None would have suffered for more than a moment and Abelas wondered who would go through such trouble to not let their enemy suffer needlessly.

It would not be his charge, she was a shemlen and though she had proven to be efficient she was a tad crude. Not the type to risk herself to lessen the suffering of her enemies. Honestly, why Mythal wanted him to guard her in the first place was beyond him but he was not the person to question his elders. This was his last mission, his last task before Mythal would grant him his freedom and he would see it done.

_“Protect the girl, help her. And I will grant you freedom from my service. Remember, even in chaos, there is hope.”_

“Panathe’dhruelan…” A voice sounded above him, startling him out of his thoughts. He crouched lower on instinct, drawing his weapon and looked up to see a boy perched on a windowsill, rocking on the balls of his feet while staring at nothing.

“No need to hide. If we wanted you dead you would be dead already. We need your help.” A deep voice said from somewhere in front of him.

Abelas couldn’t spot the person through the thick bushes he was hiding behind so he slowly made his way out of the shadows, weapon still drawn and senses on high alert. The somewhat ethereal figure in front of him was kneeling next to a pale, broken body. Light was emanating from his hands which weaved a pattern over the body at a high pace. A heartbeat later the boy from the windowsill popped into existence beside the head of the injured woman. Still crouching he gently and oddly loving, played with a stray of hair as he watched the man work his magic.

“Halani em sahl’in, Mythal sul’anasha!!” _(Help me this instance, servant of Mythal!)_ The deep voice rumbled, startling Abelas out of his suspicious observations and the very presence of this person suddenly demanded the elfs complete obedience. Abelas complied albeit somewhat befuddled as to why. He couldn’t do much from where he stood, not even assess the situation so he opted to go around the trio to kneel at the opposite side of the broken female. As he went he studied the people on the ground before him and it didn’t take more than a few heartbeats to recognize two of the three. He felt like his heart was about to stop in his chest.

“Sylaise lanaste…” _(Sylaise mercy…)_ Abelas breathed staring in shock at the scene unfolding in front of him.  

~.o.O.o.~

 

“Din!... Tel’vegaran...” _(No!... I can’t return…)_ Anuira said in shock, staring straight through her ancient friend.

“Ahn? Ahnsul?” _(What? Why?)_ Dirthamen asked in distress.

“Te’elana sildearan ara dun…” _(I can’t feel my body…)_ the deadpan whisper of his friend sent shivers down Dirthamens spine as he observed her sinking to her knees with a vacant expression on her face. She was in shock.

“Venuralasen ya lanaste…” _(Gods have mercy…)_ Dirthamen breathed as he took his friends hands for support. She was in shock but there was not much he could do. He was still not used to the intimacy that people of this time seemed to be so generous with. But he could at least offer to hold her hand. Though, if he was honest with himself it wasn’t so much intimacy in general that was bothering him as it was intimacy with this specific woman. She was so unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on or gotten to know but at the same time there was something so familiar about her that his heart ached.

Anuira hid her face in Dirthamens knuckles with a heavy and shaky sigh and he felt his heart clench at the sight. He hated to see her like this. Defeat and despair didn’t suit her and he wanted nothing more than to put a smile back on her face. He just didn’t know how. Lost in his thoughts he almost fell backwards onto his rear from the violent start of Anuira jolting upright. She released him without a word and started pacing while he gathered himself to peer at her with what was supposed to be irritation. But the feeling immediately gave way for worry at the sight of his friend’s distressed but determined expression.

“Ahn?” _(What?)_ He wondered warily, absentmindedly brushing himself off.

“Nuven dirthan na sulrahn.” _(I need to tell you something.)_ Anuira blurted, meeting Dirthamens worried gaze with her own determined one. It was a spontaneous decision born from the chilling reminder that she could at any second be forced into the afterlife. She might be immortal but she could still be killed and Dirthamen deserved to know, no matter what Elgar’nan thought. And as matter had it, he was nowhere in sight to stop her from finally telling her friend the truth. She so hated keeping it from him.

Dirthamen looked expectantly at her while she averted her eyes and uncharacteristically started fidgeted with the hem of her armor. He patiently took her hands again in that silent gesture that always seemed to calm and reassure her. Unfortunately, now it did quite the opposite. How was she supposed to explain her past? Would he be angry? Happy? Would he leave? It was a mess and she felt like her heart would implode. Or at the very least give out from the exhaustion of beating so hard. She swallowed thickly, desperately trying to ease her nervousness.

“Lethal’lan?” Dirthamen coaxed with a small smile and she cringed slightly before closing her eyes to brave her next few words.

“Nuven lasan na sulrahn.” _(I want to give you something.)_ Dirthamen raised an eyebrow at this and silently wondered what could be a so terrible a gift to have the rogue in such a distressed state.

“Ahn?” _(What?)_ He said carefully again after a moment of silence. He was becoming anxious and her next sentence had him drop his jaw.

“Ara sal’shiral eolas …” _(My life’s knowledge…)_ She peered up at him when she felt him go stiff. His hands still holding on to hers but only barely and they now felt almost cold.

“Ahnsul?” _(Why?)_ Was the only thing the ancient elf managed to choke out in a whisper through the fear he felt. Had he misjudged her? Her intensions? What would she ask for in return? He fought with his own mind. A mind that over centuries had learned that nothing is ever free and a gift like this should cost dearly.

Anuira sighed. Knowing full well what was flying around her friends head and not knowing how to stop it. She couldn’t lie, this time there was a price for the knowledge. But not something she would demand. The knowledge would take its toll on his soul, whether she wanted to, or not.

She was Falon’Din but then again she was not, she was herself but she was more. She could remember and feel everything from the past as Falon’Din, but she never reverted back to the person he was when he lived. She was both but at the same time none. She couldn’t explain it, she just knew, felt and reacted. And if she couldn’t even wrap her own mind around the knowledge, then there was absolutely no hope of her conveying it even remotely coherent to Dirthamen. Showing him was the only option.

“Re elvyrel vir dirtha ma ahn nuvenas eolasa. Sathan, tel’ea ninsha” _(It’s the simplest way to tell you what you need to know. Please, don’t be angry.)_ Anuira pleaded.

“Ma ane _lanal_ em sar sal’shiral eolas? Fra ahn geron? _(You are_ gifting _me your life’s knowledge? At what cost?)_ Dirthamen dared not look at his friend.

He felt like throwing up. This was it, his mind mused. This was the moment his friend showed her true colors, just like he knew she eventually would. No one could resist the temptation of knowledge, he knew this, yet he had still believed. He silently cursed his naïve soul for clinging to the vain hope that she was somehow different while another part of him was desperately fighting the almost inbreed mistrust. That part of him clung to the weak hope that maybe he had found someone special. That part of him wished, against all logic that his heart would someday be safe. That _she_ would keep it safe. But now he steeled himself and braced for what felt like the inevitable.

“Ar avy tel’haran, ra neal geron.” _(I will not lie, there will be a price.)_ Anuira began and Dirthamens face crumbled at this. He felt betrayed. Like a fool he had trusted and now his heart threaten to shatter. He wanted nothing more than to run away, to hide the turmoil he was feeling inside. But the tiny rogue was still holding firmly onto his hands, rooting him to the spot. In a vain attempt to control and hide his despairing heart, he averted his eyes.  Pinching them shut hard enough for a wrinkle to appear between his brows.

Anuira studied the beautiful yet pained features of Dirthamen for a while before letting go of the elfs slender hands. She knew all too well what he was thinking. They had fought over things like this so many times and now she felt she betrayed him for not being able to keep her own oath of never demanding payment for gifting him knowledge. But in her defense, it wasn’t her that claimed a price. Life did. Death did. Her memories would. She just had to get through to Dirthamen long enough to make him see this.

She renewed her resolve and did the only thing she could think of to gain his undivided attension. Going against their silent understanding about physical boundaries, she cupped the elfs sun-kissed cheeks, forcing him to face her. His almost golden skin felt mesmerizingly warm to the touch and she distractedly found she wanted more. But it would have to wait.

Dirthamen sucked in a sharp breath at the unfamiliar sensation of the soft touch to his face but stayed still, almost hypnotized as the soft pads of Anuiras thumbs wandered along his cheekbones. The touch was trapping him, making a shiver run along his spine and waking parts of him he didn’t even know existed. His entire being was warring with itself from just that small touch. Part of him wanted to run away from the pain, to hide his heart where no one would ever again touch it. Another part wanted to deepen the touch, be reckless and explore the newly opened possibilities. And yet another part wanted to be angry, to fight and hurt her for hurting him.

He didn’t know what to think. Much less what to do, so he stayed put, eyes still closed and focused only on Anuiras touch. He was dreading as much as eagerly awaiting the rogue’s next move.

“Ra neal geron, y tel’o em, Dirthamen…” _(There will be a price, but not from me, Dirthamen.)_ She said gently, tucking a couple of stray strands of the ancient elfs golden hair behind his perfectly pointed ear, causing a barely visible shiver in response. Dirthamen’s deep but still light green eyes flew up to focus on her in confusion. But she didn’t give him time to speak.

“Ara sal’shiral eolas, ara valen, as’an ju’nua. Re geron rog…” _(My life’s knowledge, my memories, they will hurt. That is the price to endure.)_

She let him go once she was certain her words had sunk in but she still offered her hands to him since she knew he needed bodily contact for his ability to work. She watched as he searched her eyes for answers and she observed the entire spectrum of emotions playing across his features. Anger, sadness, relief, hope and some things she couldn’t quite place. He landed on something akin to hesitant determination as he looked from her face to her hands and back again.

She wanted to tell him to trust her but trust was something one earned. Not something that could be demanded and a soul as betrayed as she had found out Dirthamen to be, was understandably prone to mistrust. Instead of saying anything she took his hands and gave them an encouraging squeeze accompanied by a small tentative smile. There was a few more moments of silent deliberation before she could feel that surging pull that left her head spinning when Dirthamen shared her mind.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know! I do abuse my Inquisitor alot. My experience though, says that life WILL fuck you over, every chance it gets. And the only thing to buffer your fall, are they ones you surround yourself with along with your determination to get back up.
> 
> Therefor, Anuira get banged up again. Abelas get's the shock of a lifetime and there is some semblance of angsty fluff built in there.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

“Elgar’nan… Tarsalos.” _(You highness/perfection)_ Abelas was on his knees, head bent in submission the moment he realized who was sitting before him. His head was spinning. Elgar’nan was supposed to be dead or at the very least gone. Lost like most of the Evanuris after the betrayal of Fen’Harel.

“Ase dinal. Ar my din thanun sul’myathal. Halani y vara! _(She is dying. I have no use for praise. Help of leave!)_ Elgar’nan spat, never letting his eyes stray from his task of weaving his new found friend and child back together.

Abelas snapped to attension, realizing the gravity of the situation and instantly summoning his mana to aid his God. As his magic swept over the broken body of the tiny elven woman who was to be his charge he sensed something odd. She seemed more than she was when last he saw her. It was weak, almost non-detectable at first but the energy was there none the less. It wasn’t coming from Elgar’nan like he had thought from the beginning. The energy surged from the very core of the shemlen elf and it was familiar in a way that had his heart ache with loss.

“You should let him continue… you’re tired… to much fighting…” the boy playing with Anuiras hair said, suddenly. Peering up at Elgar’nan from under the brim of his ridiculously huge hat. Abelas looked in confusion between the two. He couldn’t fathom what could have a God like Elgar’nan tired but didn’t want to invoke the wrath of him by asking. To his utter surprise the ancient blackhaired elf sighed heavily, withdrew his hands and ran them over his tanned face before letting them fall into his lap.

“You are right of course.” The elder’s voice rumbled while patting the boy on the shoulder. The boy hardly acknowledge the gesture as he again focused on twirling the womans hair between his fingers.

“You should go back…” the boy’s voice sounded again. He didn’t look up from his menial task and Abelas briefly wondered who he was talking to. He didn’t have to wonder for long.

“I know.” Elgar’nan muttered, staring down at Anuira who ever so slowly regained some color too her cheeks.

“She’s strong enough now… you are not…” the weird boy once again peered up at the ancient and very tired elf. Abelas looked between the two and was almost startled when the boy met his gaze head on.

“You will help her?... heal her?... make her better?” The words sounded simultaneously like both a plea and a demand and Abelas slowly nodded.

“There is only so much this servant can do.” Elgar’nan said, voice heavy and bitter. Abelas knew it to be true and didn’t argue even if the statement took a bite out of his pride.

“You need to finish her mission. There is no way to safely arrest the king so we will have to kill every single one of these traitors before we leave.” Elgar’nan continued, looking over to the boy. Cole nodded and immediately rose to his feet before disappearing.

Abelas was puzzled at this. Spirit’s was rarely able to be this attached to living beings without getting twisted, but this spirit remained loyal as well as sane. Like it had found a way to shield itself from outside influences. And what was more, it could kill and still remain itself. It stood clear now that this spirit must have been the one to kill everyone in the scuffle he had heard on his climb down the castle wing. Elgar’nan would have used magic and none of the bodies wore traces of magic attacks.

“The boy is a very special spirit.” Elgar’nan stated curtly, seeing the confusion painted on Abelas face but not elaborating further.

“Now listen to me. This woman is the living embodiment of my son. You _will_ protect her with your life or suffer the consequences.” Elgar’nan waited for Abelas to acknowledge the orders and though shocked he did eventually nod in assent.

“I will go help Cole, the spirit, to settle this matter once and for all and when I return to Anuira she will take a turn for the worse. You will need help. The boy can help you find it.” And with that the ancient elf rose and blurred until he was no more.

~.o.O.o.~

Anuira felt her strength leave her as the spinning in her head intensified and moments later her knees hit the soft grass of the meadow in the ever green clearing. Before she could fall further she felt herself getting yanked off the ground into a warm trembling embrace. Even though her head still swam she gathered enough strength to hug back. Soon even drawing soothing circles across Dirthamen’s back as she waited for him to process the information she had given him. She was relieved that he did not seem angry with her, but she was not out of the woods yet. He could reel at her at any moment for hiding this from him but she hoped he wouldn’t.

The blond elf’s breath was shaky and uneven, somewhere between sobs and laughs as he clung almost desperately to her.

“Unsilan ar laimem na…” _(I thought I lost you...)_ Dirthamen whispered and Anuira couldn’t help but hope the words wasn’t a sign that Elgar’nan had been right.  Elgar’nan hadn’t wanted her to tell Dirthamen about her or rather Falon’Din’s past. For fear the man would never be able to see past it he claimed, but she was certain there was more to it. He always refused to tell though.

Deciding to brave the possibility of having destroyed her friendship with the broken man now hugging her, she gathered up her wits to gently push him away. Reluctantly he let her but kept a firm grip on her arms, like he was afraid she’d go up in smoke if he didn’t.

“Ir abelas, y ame te’ish. Ame tel na isa’ma’lin. Ame telir em” _(I’m sorry, but I’m not him. I’m not your brother. I’m only me.)_ her voice was kind, warm but a little stern as she lifted one hand from his chest to his cheek.

”Ane del… Ane ara isa’ma’lin. On’ala ath or ish rosem, in na.” _(You’re wrong… You are my brother. The best part of him survived, in you.)_ Dirthamen’s normally silvery voice was cracked with emotions and he looked about ready to break into tears. A soft smile played on his features while Anuira contemplated their situation.

There was a connection, an urge, surrounding them that could no longer be denied and she was just about to be enveloped in the elf’s arms once more when her vision started to blur. She stopped Dirthamen with a light push against his chest before trying to brush away the onslaught of tears, but realized it didn’t help. She looked up at him, blinking in confusion, still holding him at arm’s length while now fighting the onslaught of a sudden intense fatigue.

“Dirthamen, sulrahn… Ar… Ame…” _(Dirthamen, something… I... I’m…)_ Her head was spinning again, violently so. Almost like that time she had gotten drunk with Bull in celebration of their first dragon-kill. But this was not even near as pleasant a buzz.

She didn’t know when she started sagging to the ground and was even less aware of when she ended up in the arms of the beautiful ancient elf again. But she was keenly aware of when the pain started. And it only grew. Her vision went almost blank, she couldn’t move and she could hardly hear a thing over the blood roaring in her ears. Unfortunately her sense of feeling wasn’t numbing even a little and every bone in her body seemed to be getting snapped by an invisible force. The pain was unreal and she knew she was at the very least whimpering.

“Atisha mar’lan. Ane vegaremah su Tiralas…”  _(Calm yourself. You are about to return to the world…)_ Dirthamen did what he could to soothe, knowing well the pain of one’s spirit re-entering a broken body. But something did seem wrong. He had seen her holding up even in pain of the worst kind of injuries he could imagine. This time there wasn’t even a scratch on her but still, she was limp in his arms and barely responsive. It was as if someone had sucked the strength and life right out of her while crushing every bone in her body.

“Dirtha..men… su..lrah..n… re… de..l...” _(Dirthamen, something is wrong.)_ Anuira whispered brokenly in between gasps. And with that he knew something was horribly wrong. It knotted his insides and made it hard to breathe since he knew there was nothing he could do from his prison in the fade. He held her shivering frame as tightly as he dared, racking his brain for things to help her. But he was trapped. Doomed to helplessly watch as her spirit fade in his arms as it re-entered the world of the living.

He cursed. Then he begged and then settled in to hold on to hope.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did Anuira make it? What happened to Elgar'nan? and what's up with the sparks between Dirthamen and Anuira?
> 
> Find out :)
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, finally got the next chapter out. I'm sorry about the delays all the time but I'm having a slump with this story. It's hard to find the moodset to write it even though I have it all planned out in my head. 
> 
> Also seeing as how I have noone to proof-read I also have to wait longer periods of time between reads so I wont miss to much spelling and weird wordings and such.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me in this. <3

It felt like weeks had gone by and Dirthamen still had no word nor sign from either his father or Anuira. He was going stir-crazy, just as he had the first millennia he spent in his prison. Every ruffle in the underbrush, every breeze rattling the leaves of the trees in his little clearing and every shadow he crossed had him jump while his heart lodged itself in his throat.

They never left him alone this long. Not without something bad happening but he was stuck here, without even the slightest possibility to find out what it was!

“Fenedhis!” _(equal to ‘shit’/‘fuck’ in this case)_ Dirthamen was pacing again. He couldn’t remember if he ever actually stopped. Everytime he sat down he became restless, his mind assaulting him constantly with every horrible possibility of what might have gone wrong and it always ended with him pacing again. Even Geal and Harel was agitated, which was unusual for them since they didn’t get attached to anyone. Dirthamen had had to bind them to himself all those years ago, to keep them in check. But Anuira had somehow invoked a respect in them and they were not happy with the prospect of not seeing her again.

The ancient elf was at his breaking-point. He felt simultaneously like falling into a sobbing heap in the grass and burning the entire grove into a blackened husk.

It wasn’t fair!

He had just found some semblance of happiness again, had just started trusting her and just recently found out she was the living embodiment of his dearly departed brother. She couldn’t be gone already! It just wasn’t fair!

In his despair he threw a fireball straight into a tree with an exasperated cry of rage and watched with a sinking feeling in his gut as the bark burned to charcoal. His breathing was shallow, strained from all the stress and he was trembling. He felt like he was about to implode.

“Atisha mar’lin, ishalen.” _(Calm yourself, son.)_ Dirthamen whirled around at the sound of the familiar deep voice and a enormous wave of relief washed over him. The sudden relief made him sag to the ground with exhaustion  from days of pacing and worrying.

“Lenalin…” the words where barely a whisper but they still carried all the relief the blond elf felt at the sight of his father.

“Mahn ny ma deal? Ane son? Re Anuira?” _(Where have you been? Are you ok? Is Anuria?)_ The questions where pouring out of Dirthamen faster than Elgar’nan could answer them and he let his son get it out of his system before even trying.

“Ame son, Dirthamen. Y Anuira… Ir abelas, tamahn deal telsahngar garal… _(I am well, Dirthamen. But Anuira… I’m sorry, there was an unfortunate event…)_ Dirthamen went as pale as a sheet and Elgar’nan hurried to continue.

“Ase inathe, y telir…” _(She is alive, but barely...)_ Dirthamen let out the breath he had been holding in his suspense. She was alive. And so was his father. Now it was only a matter of calming himself enough to be able to take in what in the name of the void had happened in the first place.

"Mahn ny ma deal babae?" Dirthamen lapsed into a less formal language and Elgar'nan motioned for the younger elf to sit.

“Ithan marni’an ea tas av'ahn'su'vi'in.” _(I see your friends are also curious.)_ Elgar’nan interjected when two huge, black ravens swooshed down to perch in a nearby tree.

One of the birds looked pointedly at them, seemingly leaning in closer to observe, while the other turned its back with disinterest to instead preen its wings. Dirthamen chuckled a short amused huff at his companion’s obvious behavior and nodded to his father.

“Vin, as’an ya deal telsilem.” _(Yes, they have been worried.)_ The crow with his back turned, agitatedly hopped around to hiss indignantly at his master before once again turning his back and Dirthamen smirked at Geal for his behavior. That one never did like to be caught showing his softer side.

The two ancient elves took a seat in the warm grass before Elgar’nan launched into his tale about what had happened in and after Nevarra. Dirthamen listened with growing anxiety, hardly even registering when Harel flew down to perch in his shoulder to better hear the tale.

\--

 

Abelas felt the sweat from his exhaustion pearl on his forehead as he fought to preserve his charge in a state of frail equilibrium until the spirit – Cole as his lord had called him – returned with the promised healer. It had been three full days and the constant strain on his body from pouring his mana into Anuira was severely taking its toll. He feared that if help did not arrive soon he would fail once more. The thought had him gritting his teeth in bitter determination.

Failing was not an option!

It could have been an eternity or a blink of an eye later - he had lost all sense of time since Elgar’nan had reentered the body of Anuira - but now he heard faint rustling in the underbrush. The sentinel snapped out of his trance and tried to focus on both his task at hand and the potential threat. He prayed a silent prayer that it be animals or even better, the promised help. If it was enemies he had no idea how he would ever be able to both keep Anuira alive and fight off the attackers in his current state. It would have been a predicament even in newly rested state and with him exhausted to the verge of collapse, it seemed an impossibility.

“There they are!” A male voice Abelas was unfamiliar with exclaimed and the tired sentinel struggled to lift his head to see who was approaching. As he finally got his body to respond he saw a young white-haired elf bounce through the brush before promptly plonking himself at the head of Anuira. The white-haired elf didn’t even give him so much as a word of acknowledgement but Abelas couldn’t find the will to be irritated at that. Instead he struggled to keep the magic flowing since the boy was clearly not a healer, though obviously a friend.

Moments later a female elf joined Abelas at his side. She gently put her hands to his before softly nudging him to scoot aside. He did and also noticed that he could see her lips moving but he couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear much at all. His head was spinning and his body trembling from exertion. He tried to blink away the blurry darkness lingering at the edge of his sight but found himself unable to do so. The spinning intensified, the darkness in his sight grew and he felt he couldn’t move another muscle.

\--

 

“The elf past out.” Dorian said with a huff after helping Cole drag the ancient sentinel he knew from the Temple of Mythal, away from the body of his precious sister. The wrinkle between the Tevinter’s eyebrows had little to do with the fact that the ancient elf had passed out and more to do with the fact that his friend once again was battling death and he was nearly powerless to help her.

Idrillas was perched by Anuiras head, quietly pleading in what little elvish he knew for her not to leave him alone in this world. Cole was crouching in his usual manner slightly off to the side of Idrillas, absentmindedly plucking and fidgeting with pebbles and strains of grass. For anyone who was not accustomed to the spirit he would appear uncaring but Dorian knew better. He saw the miniscule change in posture and the way Cole’s mouth seemed even thinner than usual. The spirit was worried.

Merrill was full at work, sitting on her knees where Abelas had sat upon the friend’s arrival. He saw the elf’s features settle in grim determination before she looked up at him. He was not going to like this…

“We need to re-break her fractures. Many have set in the wrong manner…” Merrill looked over to Idrillas who visably winced at the mere mentioning of hurting his clan-sister. Dorian only sighed and got to work.

“Amatus. Do you think you can… restrain her, if she wakes?” Idrillas nodded grimly at that and Dorian looked tiredly over to Cole.

“Yes.” came the curt answer to the unspoken question Dorian had been about to deliver and then the spirit shimmered out of visibility only to appear at the feet of Anuira.

Dorian looked to Merrill for instructions and one by one the fractures was re-broken in the most gods awful crackling noises Dorian had ever heard.

Anuira started to stir soon after they begun and by the time they were done with one arm she was fully awake, screaming her lungs hoarse with every break. Her screams awoke even the exhausted sentinel who did his best to help with whatever strength he could muster. Anuira slipped in and out of consciousness for almost the entire procedure and Dorian gathered it must have felt like an eternity for her. It certainly did for him and from the looks of it none other fared any better.

It was almost nightfall when all the fractures in need of care had been properly set and Anuira had stopped regaining consciousness somewhere along the line. She still whimpered and squirmed when a fracture was being re-set and according to Cole she was feeling all the pain even in her unconscious state even if she didn't fight as much.

Cole had kept an eye on her mind to make sure she was ok and was now even more quiet than usual. Idrillas looked about ready to keel over where he sat with his clan-sisters head in his lap. Abelas fared no better than Idrillas and Merrill looked drained to the point of vomiting.

“We did it…” Merrill’s thin squeaky voice breathed when the last fracture was healed enough and she let her hands fall into her lap.

“Will she be ok?” Idrillas voice was strained and almost gravely and his face turned downwards, hidden by shadow.

“She’s lost a lot of blood which I cannot replace, but, Sylaise willing, she will be.” Merrill answered tiredly, rubbing her forehead.

There was a long silence. No one moved or even looked at one another. Everyone lost in their own thoughts and Dorian was the first one to come back to his senses.

“Cole, might I ask you to gather some wood? We’ll rest up here for the night.” Dorian said as he draped his mantel over Anuira. Cole nodded and sauntered off into the woods while Dorian helped Merrill get comfortable. Abelas squirmed himself to rest with his back to a tree and with full view of the camp and Idrillas refused to leave Anuira’s side no matter how much Dorian tried to coax him to come curl up in his arms. In the end the mage relented and opted to sit himself by his lover instead, helping him watch over their beloved friend.

 --

 

Elgar’nan finished his recount of recent past events by letting Dirthamen know he had stayed with Anuira and her friends until they had gotten her safely back to Skyhold where she, according to Abelas, would be safest. Skyhold now stood under the protection of Mythal’s last sentinels and neither the spies of the Somnoborium nor the agents of Fen’harel would be able to get past them.

Dirthamen was both relieved, anxious and furious. He didn't know what feeling to give into so he just sat there, pondering the information that he had just received. He knew he couldn’t stop Anuira from putting herself in harm’s way, but he secretly wished he could. He hated knowing she was hurt. He hated even more that he couldn’t help and he felt chills along his spine at the mere thought of her dead and gone. He wished that he at the very least could stand by her side and protect her, but instead he was locked in this forsaken realm.

He sneered at the reawakened memory of Fen'harel's treachery and silently cursed the day that mongrel was ever born. Harel ruffled his wings at his masters sneer and then took off to join his grumpy other half in the tree again. Elgar’nan stayed silent for a while, only observing his son and all the changes that had started to take place in the blond younger elf.

“Lathas ash, Dirthamen?” _(Do you love her, Dirthamen?)_ Elgar’nan asked in curiosity and watched as his sons eyes went wide in shock. Dirthamen didn't turn to look at his father, nor did he answer the question but Elgar’nan saw the wheels turning frantically in his son’s head as he worked to put one and one together.

“Ma harthem o ash en’an’sal?” _(You heard about her gift?)_ Dirthamen asked instead, looking solemnly at the grass in front of his knees.

“Vin, ir’on’ala en’an’sal.” _(Yes, a truly great gift.)_ Elgar’nan said, pride sneaking into his voice and a small smile played on his features.

Anuira went against his wishes in telling Dirthamen about her past as Falon'Din. But she showed him that once again her intuition trumped his knowledge. Dirthamen hadn’t gotten stuck on the fact that Anuira was Falon’din’s ghost, like Elgar’nan had thought he would. The younger elf instead seemed more concerned with the prospect of losing Anuira herself than the last pieces of Falon’din’s soul.  Maybe it was her influence that had changed Dirthamen or maybe time had, Elgar’nan couldn’t be certain but it also didn’t matter. His son was returning to life and he had Anuira to thank for it whether she knew it or not. And he would never forget it.

“Ma ane nuem?” _(You are troubled?)_ Elgar’nan asked when he noticed the dark air of gloom settling over his sons features once more.

“Vin…” _(Yes…)_  Dirthamen sighed.

“Ash vhen’an re taht dan’lathal, i as re taht in ebalas.” _(Her heart is still weeping and she is still in great mourning.)_ the green-eyed younger elf continued ruefully. Dirthamen still hadn’t gotten used to all he had learned about Anuira. Everything she had gone through, everything she had suffered and still she prevailed. He couldn’t help but admire her. But there was also something more. A feeling that he had struggled with for a while now. He didn’t want to acknowledge it but now he feared to lose it.

"Panelan i esha’lin?" _(The soldier and the child?)_ Elgar’nan had figured Anuira still had much sorrow to work through due to the circumstances leading to the break between her and her warrior-lover and also the tragic loss of their child. Dirthamen's words only served to confirm his suspicions but he also knew there was little he could do to aid the stubborn woman.

"Vin…" Dirthamen sighed again, looking up to meet his father’s golden gaze for the first time since the older elf began recounting the events of Nevarra.

“Ra nuas?” _(Does that bother you?)_

”Din!” _(No!)_ the answer to Elgar’nans question came swiftly and with just a hint of indignation. The black haired ancient elf smirked in satisfaction at that. He had his answer but knowing his son, he needed to force it out of the elf to be sure he acknowledged it.

“Ar av’ahna sal, Dirthamen. Re as na vhen’an’ara?” _(I ask again, Dirthamen. Is she your heart’s desire?)_ Dirthamen averted his eyes, took a deep breath and fidgeted with the grass again. He didn’t speak, but nodded and Elgar’nan smiled warmly. 

"Dirtha ash." _(Tell her.)_


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know! Many of you are eagerly awaiting the confessions and whatnot that is soon to come between Anuira and Dirthamen. Bare with me. It's getting there! First however, there are some things needing fixing.
> 
> Like this little short "in-between" where I relocate the chars to where I need them to be.  
> \--
> 
> This chapter sets the mood between Anuira and Abelas as well as introduces the long lost Fen'Harel or Solas if you prefer. Then there are some mischeif among the trio of BFF's.
> 
> Enjoy!

The door to Anuira’s quarters slammed shut so hard the entire keep shook from the force. That blasted elf was going to be the death of him. If he didn’t strangle her first. Abelas couldn’t understand why the incessant woman had to fight him on everything. She was void-bent on seeking out Fen'harel herself and wouldn’t listen to reason at all. He knew she was stubborn but this was ridiculous!

Nothing good could possibly come from jumping head first into danger even before her injuries from her previous battles had healed. She wasn't even able to fade walk yet and still she insisted on getting onto that ridiculously named elk and trot straight into an obvious trap. Without him!

How was he supposed to protect her if she never allowed him to stay by her side? Why couldn’t she just admit she needed help!? Why was she so darn infuriating!?

“I take it the meeting didn’t go the way you planned, hmm?” That smug, Tevinter mage snarked and Abelas scowled in reply. _‘Humans…’_ he thought patronizingly and sneered to himself as he stalked off to find a place to calm his nerves.

\--

 

“You do realize that elf is contemplating killing you himself right?” Dorian chuckled as he entered Anuiras quarters with her lunch and a snickering Idrillas in a tow.

“Well he can go throw himself of a cliff for all I care!” Anuira spat, stewing in her indignant anger.

“If that self-important, stuck-up, pompous son of the void thinks I'll _ever_ let him tag along, he is sorely mistaken! Not even if he was the last man left alive!” The candle from Anuira’s bedside table shattered as it hit the wall opposite of her bed and the elf winced at the harsh movement jostling her still sore body.

“Now, now. Not that I don't enjoy your rambunctious temper as much as the next man, but, that ancient windbag does have a point.” Dorian smirked and watched the bedridden woman narrow her eyes at him.

He knew he was somewhat playing with fire. Anuira was more than a little testy after being bedridden for so long and the fact that Solas had made a reappearance was making the rogue even grumpier. Not to mention she was going nuts from not being able to visit her friends in the fade. But Dorian also knew she was thankful for him helping to saving her life, and he did so enjoy pushing her buttons.

“How is anything that comes out of that ancient pile of dung in any way worth listening to?” The tone was razor sharp and laced with poison but Dorian wasn’t about to back down. He didn't like Anuira going off to meet up with Solas any more than Abelas did and he agreed with the sentinel that going alone would be bordering on stupid in her condition.

“Well, my dear. If you hadn't noticed, we just spent a tremendous amount of time mending you back together and it would just be plain out rude to make all that hard work be for nought. Especially since this supposed meeting most likely _is_ a trap and _can_ be avoided. No one says you have to bring the windbag, just bring _someone_!” Dorian argued and Idrillas couldn’t help but be impressed with the way his lover managed to both aggravate and calm his sister in one single breath.

“Fenedhis” Anuira sneered and flopped back onto her pillows.

“You’re right. I hate it! But you’re right.” She continued with a huff, visably sulking in her entirely too large a bed. She couldn’t wait to get up and move her stiff body but Merrill hadn't given her the go ahead yet. And that elf could be really nasty if she wanted to, despite her sweet and somewhat dimwitted appearance. She had paralyzed Anuira for a full day when she refused to listen and would gladly do so again if her word held any truth. Anuira wasn’t willing to chance it.

Now it had been a week since she had been taken back to Skyhold but, still, she wasn't allowed to even walk to the main hall for dinner.

The worst part wasn't being stuck in bed though - no matter how infuriating it was - no, the worst part was that she wasn’t even allowed to fade walk yet. Her body would not be able to handle the stress of being cut off from her spirit so she was trapped. Even in her dreams. And not even sifting through all the memories of the absorbed and now very much obedient voices of Vir Abelas'an could ease the restlessness she felt. Sleeping had become a boring chore and being awake was only aggravating to the point of insanity.

She knew Elgar'nan notified Dirthamen and kept him updated about her recovery, but Anuria herself had to refrain from seeing him and it was driving her up the walls. Especially since she knew Elgar’nan was keeping something from her. His telepathic voice held a constant smirk but he always ignored her inquiries other than telling her Dirthamen was fine.

Anuira was itching to see those green eyes again. To see them light up with that bright, welcoming smile when he recognized her and to see them reflect the warmth of his silvery voice as he spoke to her. Her mind conjured up a vivid memory of that tanned skin that felt like velvet under her fingertips and she felt herself shudder slightly. Those lips, she remembered, had looked so inviting.

 “Of course I'm right! It's why you keep me around.” Dorian’s exuberant voice brought Anuria back from her pondering and she broke of a piece of bread from her roll and threw it at her friend for interrupting her, for once, lovely daydream. Dorian shot her a dirty look and sighed through a warm chuckle when she stuck out her tongue at him. Idrillas was smiling from ear to ear, trying his best not to fall of the bed in a fit of laughter at the comical duo he called lover and sister.

Dorian turned his attension to his young lover with a scowl and watched with a small sense of satisfaction when Anuira smacked the younger elf playfully upside the head and told him to shut up.

A vague smile spread over the Tevinter's lips. This was what family was supposed to be like, he mused. Not the twisted thing he had grown up in. He never imagined he would ever experience this, but never the less, here he was. And the absurdity of it all, was that the two people he now cherished most in this entire world, consisted of two elves. Two people of the very race he had initially thought would never even accept his company.

He looked fondly over at the two squabbling clan-siblings and felt his heart swell with love. _‘May I never lose this.’_ he thought.

“So when are you two getting hitched?!” Anuira's smug voice cut through the fuzzy feelings Dorian was basking in and he almost choked on his stew. Idrillas sputtered and coughed violently as he _did_ choke on his stew and Anuira couldn’t help but snicker at the scene.

“I beg your pardon?” Dorian managed to uncharacteristically croak at the same time as Idrillas squeaked;

“What?!”

“Oh come one… you are two of the most sickeningly, sweet lovebirds I have ever seen. Don't think I haven't seen the way you two look at one another!” Anuria said with a huge grin. She was very satisfied that she had managed to both change the subject and unbalance her quick-witted friend, which was a feat in its own.

Idrillas, at this point, was beet-root red and squirming where he sat on the edge of Anuiras bed. Dorian had closed his mouth and managed to compose himself somewhat but was still at loss for words. It was obvious that the two men hadn't discussed something even remotely close to marriage and Anuira sighed.

”Creators… have you even defined your relationship yet?” She muttered in fake annoyance, rolling her eyes and by the way both of them squirmed and avoided eyecontact she was fairly certain they hadn't.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! New chapter out! Take that, hospital and computorcrash!!!
> 
> Did Anuira meet up with Solas? Was it a trap? Confessiontime yet? 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Anuira was meandering about the hold for what must have been the hundredth time during the week since her devastating injuries. Her surroundings looked the same but it was still so very different in her dreams. The light flowed differently, the air felt more vibrant and the energies emanating from the very stones of the hold was more intense here in the fade. She now knew why the hold always felt so much like home, why it always felt like a place of importance. But she never seized to be awed by the fact that it was here that the ancient magic separating the mortals and the spirits began.

The old elven fortress that once inhabited her ancient ancestors, had been razed to the ground and in its stead had been built the hold that was now her home. But the magic from the site could not be destroyed and it seemingly hadn’t diminished over the many years past. It still lingered, and just as Morrigan once said – before she wandered off with her re-mortalized son – the old magic had seeped into the stones, keeping the hold protected.

Here in the fade Anuira had also found ways to gain access to forgotten tunnels and secrets of old. The tunnels she found was carved into the very stone of the mountain beneath the now standing hold. Also she found many forgotten cellars – probably used during the age of the ancient elfs - and in there she had learned valuable things from both ancient books and the spirits now making the place their home. The things she had read, been shown and told, she needed to confer with Elgar’nan and Dirthamen about them because there was a truth hidden there that could be of gain in her future fight against Fen’Harel. She prayed her intuition did not lead her astray this time.

Elgar'nan had recovered quicker than Anuira. Probably due to him being a very ancient and powerful spirit that could draw power from not only his host, but his surroundings as well. He was now thankfully with Dirthamen again, keeping the skittish elf company while Anuira recovered. He had turned out to be quite the pest lately. Not only did he always seem like he was gloating over something he refused to share but he was always fussing over her, guarding her and even though she was quite fond of the old grump, she was thankful whenever he left her to sulk in her lonesome.

“You didn’t come.” a calm voice suddenly said, startling her out of her thoughts in an instant.

“I guess I should have expected that.” the voice continued as she whirl around seeking its origin. The voice was familiar, carried an air of arrogance and she knew its owner even before she laid eyes on him. He was standing in the shadows, just off the side of the training ground in the center of the Skyholds courtyard. Looking at her with those blueish eyes that always shimmered with superiority and that now also held something akin to sadness. It made Anuira want to rip his heart out.

“Solas…” she all but spat as she stared the ancient betrayer down while folding her arms angrily across her chest.

“Yes…” he answered in his usual curt tone, laced with carefulness.

“What could ever be urgent enough for you to invade my dreams?” Anuira sneered and eyed him coldly as he walked towards her.

“You didn’t show to our meeting. I was… worried…” Solas said as he stopped just short of reaching her. He looked momentarily annoyed but with what was anyone’s guess.

“Worried?! You?” Anuira couldn’t leave the bitterness out of her voice as she scoffed her reply and laughed.

“You who left me to scream myself into unconsciousness from the pain of having my arm dissolve into nothingness? You who betrayed everything I thought we fought for? You who…” She stopped and shook her head with another scoff. Solas didn’t meet her eyes as she recounted past events. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly and he shut his eyes tightly enough to leave a small wrinkle between them, a small telling of his pain.

“No Solas… you were not worried. You just don’t like being ignored…” Anuira could see the anger and annoyance flashing back into the elfs features at her words. That hard set jaw, the dangerous sparks in his eyes and the unnatural rigidity of his posture. But she didn't relent, didn’t let him speak.

“I'm sorry my injuries keeping me bedridden is such an inconvenience for you… Now, what do you want…” she repeated the question without giving the ancient elf the satisfaction of averting her eyes. She was stronger now. He would never again beat her, ridicule her or steal anything from her. He was only another enemy needing to be taken down. She had overcome the impossible so many times she had lost count and she would find a way to do it again.

“I think you know what I want…” Solas finally spoke and his words was laced with acid even if his voice was smooth as silk.

“You have thwarted every attempt I’ve made to infiltrate Skyhold and you refuse to let me in. This needs to stop.” Solas schooled his features into careful neutrality as he spoke and Anuira smirked.

“Does it now?” She answered with a chuckle that had Solas scowl her way.

“I don’t want to hurt you! Don’t you understand that?! But I will have no other choice unless you let me in to my keep!” Solas tried but couldn’t quite cover up the anger he felt. Anuira heard it, relished in it and challenged it.

“If you want it so badly, I suggest you try and take it. I’m not giving it up to the likes of you.” the statement had the mage close his eyes and sigh. She felt the air shift as the mana stirred around them. She felt almost giddy. He still thought her the powerless elf shemlen and it was going to be a pleasure to prove him so very wrong. She saw his eyes glow, she noticed the excess mana flowing around him like smoke but only smirked.

This was _her_ dream. _Her_ realm and he could not best her here, she would not _allow_ it.

Confusion spread over Solas’ face for a split second before he suppressed it and looked warily at Anuira. She wore her glee with pride, flashing her predatory grin his way while staring him down with eyes full of defiance.

“Vyn ingaval fra Tarasyl’an Te’las tas elvar, _Fen’Harel_. Ane telithal garahnen y!” _(You have been clawing at Skyhold too hard,_ Fen’Harel _. You are blind to everything else!)_ Anuira taunted, feeling smug at the miniscule confusion that sparked in the features of her former friend.

“ _Ane_ tel’sasha alin el’u’en sahl’in.” _(_ You _are not the only one hiding secrets now.)_ Anuira purred before releasing a shockwave of energy at her former comrade. The surprise was plainly written across the ancient elf’s face and it warmed Anuiras heart, maybe a little more than it probably should have. Finally! She was able to fight back, and fight she would. With all her might.

But first, she needed to make a detour.

\--

 

Dirthamen was getting antsy. Every cell in his body felt like it was crawling from an unknown infestation and even though Elgar’nan kept him updated on Anuira’s condition, it was taking too long for her to recover. He missed her with ever fiber in his being, more than he ever thought possible and it had only gotten worse since he – somewhat unwillingly - discovered his own infatuation with the woman.

Elgar'nan had told him to confess his feelings and he wanted to. Badly. But all this waiting was gnawing away at his resolve and left him feeling conflicted. He knew all there was to know of this womans past as his ability let him absorb memories. But feelings were trickier. To absorb them they had to be really intense or they had to be in the forefront of the persons mind. Like Anuiras sorrow for her unborn, lost child and the loss of her love. Or the relief that came with release as the crazed Falon'Din was finally struck down by that blond elf so many years ago.

Dirthamen had no idea what the elf felt for him and the thought of rejection was paralyzing as much as agonizing. What if she recoiled from him? What if she left? What if he lost her and with her also the only remnants of his brother, due to his own foolish infatuation? What if…

He stopped himself mid rant, stopped pacing and sank to the ground with his back towards the huge oak tree in his clearing. Sighing from the depth of his soul he hid his head in his arms as he pulled up his knees to his chest. His entire being was warring with itself and he seemed powerless to stop it. One part wanting to be brave, another part wanting to run away and yet another part wanting to pretend nothing had changed.

He was stuck in this endless loop of panicked feelings and didn't notice the figure approaching.

\--

 

“Elgar’nan! Nuvenan dirtha na!” _(Elgar’nan!_ _I need to talk to you!)_ There was a sharpness to Anuira’s telepathic voice that had even the old ancient elf jump to attension.

“Ar dirthem sulrahn arulin. E’las’in.” _(I learned something important. A great secret.)_ Anuira continued and Elgar’nan immediately felt intrigued. The young elf was seldom this giddy if something of importance hadn’t recently gone her way.

“Is dirthem na fra fel’ala.” _(He told you at last.)_ Elgar’nan chuckled, thinking he knew exactly what had transpired. The questioning and confused mentally raised eyebrow of the young woman however, suddenly told him differently. He quickly schooled his energies and cleared his throat. He was never this careless and he silently berated himself for that as he collected himself. Years of inactivity and this girls disarming ways had him apparently going soft.

“Ma dea dirthal?” _(You were saying?)_ Anuira used her telepathic connection to the old elf to see if she could coax him to reveal what he meant by his comment but to no avail. She only sensed his humor at her telepathic feelers and knew he would not relent any more information. She wondered if this was what had him acting all smug during the past week.

“Anuira?” Elgar’nan sounded a little demanding mixed in with the unspoken question and she snapped back to the reason she had hurried back to her body.

Anuira began with telling Elgar’nan about Solas, or Fen’Harel as the elder elf knew him as. She could sense the fury coming of her friend and mentor but also pride or satisfaction as she got to the part where she expelled the betrayer from her dreams. Then she launched into the real reason she needed to talk to him. She told him all about the tunnels or cellars buried beneath Skyhold. She told him about the spirit of wisdom living there, about its seemingly infinite knowledge and about the books in the forgotten vaults, containing information about the orbs strengthening the veil and how.

“With this we should be able to come up with a way to lower the veil without obliterating the world as we know it. The spirit of wisdom sensed it to be so and I have a hunch. I just need to find the right magic to do it!” Anuira was talking out loud, pacing around the floor of her room – finally allowed up and about just hours before. She was giddy as well as determined and it warmed Elgar’nan to the core. It had been such a long time since he experienced a person caring so much for everyone around her and it was refreshing. It reminded him of his younger wife, before war took its toll on her soul, making her more the cunning, careful and scheming sort.

“Nuvenan na dirtha Dirthamen.” _(I need to talk to Dirthamen.)_

“Vindirthan, da’ean.” _(I agree, little bird.)_ The smirk in Elgar’nan’s mental voice was annoying. He knew something she didn’t and now she knew it had to do with Dirthamen. What in the world had they been up to while she was being trapped in her own bed and mind?

She gave Elgar’nan a mental scowl. “I assume you are _not_ coming?”

“You assume right little bird.” the old elf chuckled.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I know some of you have waited eagerly for this chapter. Well here it is. Finally. Dirthamen and Anuira. Maaaaaybe not the kind of confession some of you where thinking it'd be. BUT I hope you will like this chapter all the same.
> 
> Sexual content. Those not wanting to read such should turn and run right about now ^_^
> 
> Enjoy!

“Dirthamen?” The familiar voice had the blond elf spring to his feet in a heartbeat. His eyes instantly searching out the familiar pools of aquamarine imbedded in that beautifully sculpted face, framed by raven black hair. She was walking up to him with tentative steps and caution in her eyes. He didn’t know why so by sheer reflex he took her hands to calm her the moment she was close enough. He suppressed a shiver as he felt the hairs on his arms stand on edge. He had waited so long for this moment but now all he could do was stare.

“Ea son?” _(Are you ok?)_ Tiny fingers connected to his cheek and his mind blanked. He sighed in contentment, releasing the breath he scarcely knew he was even holding and got lost in the touch of those nimble fingertips ghosting a trail along his cheekbone and jaw. That feathery touch caused sparks of heat to shoot along his spine, again and again until he felt like he was on the verge of losing his mind.

“Lethal’lin, thu ea?” _(Friend, how are you?)_ The sound of the concern in that lovely voice he knew so well had him confused. It didn’t at all fit in his haze of happiness and his mind struggled to catch up. As he opened his eyes and searched those sea green emeralds in front of him he once again found worry. It didn’t add up. Blinking a few times it slowly dawned on him that Anuira was probably expecting an answer to her question.

The pad of her thumb feathered along his cheekbone once more and he struggled to keep his head in the game. He didn’t dare do what he so heatedly wanted but he chanced to mimic her touch. The moment his fingertips tentatively touched the fair skin of her cheek he heard Anuira take in a sharp breath. He could see the worry in her eyes morph into wariness, he could almost smell her fear and he understood, but the energy crackling around them was unmistakable.

Anuira felt like a halla, trapped between a precipice and a pack of wolfs. His skin was like silk underneath her fingertips and she relished in the fact that he let her explore his beautiful face. But his reactions puzzled her and frightened her all at once. They were both broken and battered by an unkind life and she feared that destiny would destroy them both if they dared venture across the point of no return. Stolen glances, wishes and dreams was one thing, but to actually admit the attraction? To let her heart once again row the boat? Was she ready? Was he?

The moment Dirthamen’s fingertips landed on her cheek she sucked in a deep breath before completely forgetting how to breathe all together. Two forces warred violently for control and the reason she had gone to see him despite not being allowed to, was forgotten. Her heart was crying out for his while her mind was running the other way. The two forces left her stunned. Her hand fell slowly from the tanned cheek of Dirthamen only to nestle itself at his chest. She felt his heartbeat even through the clothes. Or maybe it was more that she could sense it. Her gaze wandered back to meet his, those forest green eyes that had haunted her dreams for months. They held an unspoken question, a hesitation. As did his touch. Like he was waiting for something. Was he waiting for her?

Anuira steeled herself against her past as she smiled warmly at the ancient elf. She raised her other hand to put a stray lock of Dirthamens hair behind a well sculpted tanned ear and let her fingers trail his jawline before coming to rest at his shoulder. Her heart soared and skipped a few beats when she felt the man shudder through a sigh as he stepped fully into her personal space.

She felt the thumb of his hand trail her cheekbone and the touch made her shiver. As his other hand tentatively found purchase right above her hip, it made her lean instinctively towards him and the hand at his chest started traveling upwards again. She felt his breath caress her face as his lips ghosted hers and her hands nestled themselves into his long, blond hair as she pulled him in for more.

The need that bubbled up from the depth of Anuira’s soul was matched equally by Dirthamen’s. The tentative, searching sweetness of their kiss was quickly being replaced by raw want and need as the kiss deepened. And as their tongues met in a delicate dance of building passion, no words seemed needed. In fact words seemed forgotten. Replaced by pure instinct and intuition. But Dirthamen felt it. Every ounce of need, want and love Anuira had for him. It was pouring into him, threatening to overwhelm him as he couldn’t turn it off. It was like Anuira herself was the very catalyst for his powers and was now drowning him in what he had always starved for.

He didn’t have to wonder anymore, he didn’t have to think, calculate or hide. He only had to act.

He trailed his hand from Anuiras cheek down her jaw and neckline, felt her shudder and felt the fires of passion raging even hotter between them. He relished in the small whining sigh that escaped Anuira’s lips as he abandoned them to spread soft kisses along her jaw, following the path down towards her ear. His hand at her neck wandered around to her shoulderblades and the one at her hip found purchase on that perfect rounded behind. And as his lips reached Anuiras ear he put one last kiss right below it before rushing back to claim her lips once more.

Every kiss felt like fire and lightning to her. She felt starved of attension and greedily soak up everything Dirthamen offered. As his hands relocated she had remained idle, focused on his lips only, but when his kisses left her skin and he reclaimed her yearning lips, her control broke. She didn’t want to tread carefully, she didn’t want to wait and her feelings started muddling together. It was like she was soaking up what Dirthamen was feeling. His need was becoming her own and his love, she could feel it. It was more than just intuition and she gasped as the floodgates opened that separated their minds. She felt what he did, sensed what he did and she was humbled at the feelings he had hidden in his heart. She didn’t have to ask, didn’t have to fear or worry anymore.

The dark green hooded mantel adorning Dirthamens shoulders fell away, unhooked and discarded by Anuiras nimble fingers as she felt him working on all the buttons of her white silken shirt.

She didn’t wear her usual armor, nor her usual ceremonial dragon scale armor. Since she became ill she wore more comfortable clothes like a silken shirt and light brown leather leggings - she usually skipped the shoes. And unlike his father, Dirthamen didn’t wear the armor that seemed so usual amongst all the ancient elves Anuira had ever met. Instead he wore only a simple pale grey tunic, held together with a reddish leather sash and dark brown leather pants that left his feet bare.

Dirthamen broke their kiss as Anuira’s unbuttoned silken tunic fell to the ground and he relished in the hurried breaths and small gasps that erupted from the tiny woman as he tasted his way down to her clavicle. He sighed with satisfaction and broke apart from the warm skin of his love as his own shirt was stripped from him. He felt her kisses trail a blazing path down his throat and gave a surprised moan when a kiss turn into a nibble at the crook of his neck. Anuira’s nimble hands was everywhere at once, exploring every inch of sinewy muscle on his upper body before making him gasp out loud as one came to a rest over his straining length after undoing his trousers.

Anuira heard the surprised gasp as she caressed the elfs hard length and smirked. She felt his body go rigid as she stroked him and moments later she found herself spun and pressed up against the huge oak tree of the clearing. His lips was claiming hers with a furious need as Dirthamens slight long fingers wrapped around her breasts. She shuddered and moaned into the demanding kiss as his thumbs brushed over her hard nipples. He rolled them between his fingers, making her writhe as he kissed and nipped his way down her neck and chest.

Her skin tasted salty with a hint of herbs and her sounds of passion was music to his ears. The cry she made when he sucked in her nipple and let his tongue play, sent shivers along his spine and he couldn’t get enough. He kissed his way over to her other breast. Suckled the nipple, teasing it with his tongue and teeth as he let his free hand trail down that pale taught stomach to undo the only thing separating them.

She was holding onto the oak tree for dear life as Dirthamen nipped and licked his way down her stomach, stopping at every scar he found to lavish it with kisses. She could feel his love, his wishes to soothe and it only served to spark her need further. As soon as her leggings where unclasped she wriggled happily out of them and yelped when two long digits buried themselves deep into her welcoming core without warning as Dirthamen explored his way back up her body.

His fingers didn’t thrust much, they didn’t need to. He rubbed them slightly in and out just enough to cause friction to that electrifying spot inside while his thumb massaged the apex of her thighs. She was writhing under his ministration as he nipped the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen. He felt her passion, the pressure that built rapidly in her and groaned as it egged his own need further.

Wherever Dirthamen’s lips touched her skin, a fire erupted. His fingers buried deep inside her was a constant source of passionate lightning that had her gasping for air. And his need mingling with her own had her coming undone. She felt the fire spreading from her abdomen, across her ribs and up her breast. There it engulfed her and she cried out from the intense pleasure. The fire moved on to ravage her other breast and she almost imploded with her cry. The lightning was overwhelming, made her weak and her knees buckled but she didn’t fall. The fire kept spreading until it claimed her lips, swallowing her whining moans and blissful cries.

Dirthamen felt her knees buckle and withdrew his hand to catch her while he continued to kiss his way to her lips. He was losing his mind. His length straining painfully, begging for release as much as the pale woman before him. He lifted one slim leg to his waist and felt Anuira follow eagerly. Two slim but impossibly strong arms wound themselves around his neck for purchase while he locked her other leg over one arm. Anuira claimed his lips in a bruising kiss as he braced himself on the oak with his free hand and pushed into the welcoming warmth of his love.

The moment he pushed inside Anuira thought she was going to be thrown over the edge. Their kiss broke as her head threw back to lean against the oak she was pressed against and an almost sobbing cry clawed its way out of her throat. She was balancing on the edge of her high and had Dirthamen not paused she would have tumbled over it into blissful euphoria.

His thrusts came slowly but determined, hard enough to make her back chafe against the bark of the tree but she hardly noticed. Every thrust brought him closer to bliss, she could feel it just as she felt her own impending high lingering just out of reach. But she fought her own selfishness to grab her euphoria as fast as possible and instead kissed the man she now fully realized she loved. He responded with eagerness, deepening the kiss in an instant while they got lost in the quickening rhythm of their passion.

The kiss broke when Dirthamen drove into her hard enough to making her gasp out a cry of electrifying pleasure. The pace was getting harsher and had started stuttering as she felt every muscle in Dirthamen’s body start to coil. The thrust was now hard enough to make her bounce and wail with every one and the wildfire burning in the pit of her stomach was breaking loose further and further with every thrust. Fueled by not only her own need but that of her lovers. She was straining, angling herself and felt like she was going crazy as the burning intensified.

Two strong arms went around her fully and soon she felt the soft grass of the ground greet her knees. Dirthamen had switched them around and she was now on top of him, in his lap, on the ground. With his help she moving up and down his length in hard strokes. The burning fire was almost everywhere now, making her constrict and spams around Dirthamen as he invaded her core. She was so close to her edge even the smallest shove would send her tumbling.

Dirthamen could feel her need and knew that when she tumbled, he wouldn’t be able to hold back his own high. He pulled her down hard onto his thrusting length again and again. Nipping and kissing her nipples and neckline until he felt her entire body constrict around him. Her cries were almost constant wails and her nails were digging into the skin of his back. But all he could think of was her. And as he buried himself inside her burning core, he felt her clench mercilessly around his emptying length. Her entire body was quaking in his arms and the wail that ripped itself out of her exposed throat warmed his hazy mind to the core.

_“Vhenan”_


	49. Actual Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Anuira and her friends intend to stop Fen'Harel? The first of the last three chapters in this story.
> 
> .
> 
> Enjoy!

"So this is Skyhold?" Dirthamen said in wonder as he swirled around on the battlements of the huge hold.

The wind was strong, blowing his long, honey blond hair into a complete disarray and his emerald eyes was filled with curious wonder on top of immeasurable happiness. He still couldn't believe that the tiny little elf, former shemlen turned full-blown elvhen - that he now called Vhen'an since a few weeks back - had the power to connect planes within the fade. And with the help of the mark of magic she could even project the connected planes into the realm of the living. She was the greatest fade walker he had met since the days of his brother, Falon'Din and Anuira wasn't even born into it. She had had less than a year to come to terms with her gift, learn to control it and expand it, but still she excelled.

"It looks so different from the great hold of Fen'Harel that I remember." Dirthamen continued as his gaze wandered back to the pale-skinned marvel standing not far off, leaning against the battlements overlooking the magnificent mountains surrounding Skyhold.

Anuira looked tired and pale, even with the brilliant sunlight warming the hue of her skin. Her sea green eyes bore traces of a shadow, their normally sparkling light seemed dull and lacking. Her jaw was set in that stubborn way that meant she was void bent on not giving into something and her brows knitted together slightly to form a miniscule wrinkle between them. Dirthamen quickly came back down from his reverie of being momentarily free of his confinement. He had been so happy to be in the world of the living again that he hadn't thought of what kind of strain it was putting on his love. His prison was sturdily built by Fen'Harel and its magic not easily broken or even paused or overridden as it now was.

He walked over to Anuira, wrapped his lean, strong arms around her waist and pulled her in for a warm embrace as he pushed a few stray locks of her black pixiecut out of her face.

"Let's go back. We've stayed longer than we should have and I can see it is taking its toll on you Vhen'an."

Anuira sighed at the blond, tanned elf's words as he pulled her close. Closing her eyes she leaned into his welcoming arms, resting her forehead on Dirthamen's chest awhile answering the embrace. He was right. She didn't like it! But never the less, he was. Slowly she was getting better and better at connecting realms and planes to one another and she was gaining stamina with her constant practicing. But considering she would have to keep four planes connected to another realm, and for an unknown amount of time - if the spell she was preparing to lower the veil was to work - she wasn't at all happy with her own slow progress.

The world around them blurred as she slowly let go of her control, shifting them back to the right balance. The grey and white colors of the battlements surrounded by snowy mountains was slowly giving way to the warm emerald greens of Dirthamen's clearing.

Anuira, still with her eyes closed, let out a sigh of relief as the world around them clicked back into place and all came to a halt again. She felt the warmth of Dirthamen's hands as he cupped her cheeks and when she opened her eyes to meet the bright green gaze of her lover, she saw only warmth, happiness and pride. Her breath hitched as his lips ghosted hers, awakening that familiar spark of heat that always seemed to penetrate her to her very core. She happily melted into his kiss, enjoying his warmth while she snaked her arms around his slim neck.

“You need to get back Vhen’an.” Dirthamen mumbled against her lips after a moment. He pulled back just enough to hover a hairs breath from Anuira and smirked at her annoyed whine.

“I know…” She sneered, stubbornly capturing the warm lips of her lover again and felt him smile at her reluctance to leave his side.

The weeks after their first almost frantic encounter where their feelings had been laid almost painfully clear, Anuira had done everything in her power to be at his side every chance she got. When she went searching places in the fade for his remaining lost brother and sisters, she always took him with her despite the extra fatigue that brought. Despite his constant worry about her exhausting herself, knowing she went to extra lengths just to be with him brought warmth to his heart.

It took a long time but eventually they found every last one of the still alive Evanuris. Even Mythal.

Ghilan’nain was found and won over by Cole even before Anuira and Elgar’nan could make it to her prison. They shared a bond from life before the elven war, a pack-bond forged before the Evanuris ruled supreme and with that bond came a rare understanding and an even rarer trust. And since Cole trusted Anuira explicitly, Ghilan’nain chose to give her the benefit of the doubt even without much explanation.

Elgar’nan joined in the search more often than not and judging by the tumultuous situation that arose when they finally tracked down June, it was lucky for Anuira that he did. June was suspicious of them all, wary it was just another trick by his captor or the spirits that sometimes wandered into his prison. He had been hard-pressed to believe his own eyes after years of going stir-crazy in the only company he had, namely himself and the odd spirit here and there. In the end June had begrudgingly relented at the insisting of his father but he remained at a distance.

Sylaise hadn’t been nearly as much trouble even if she also had been a bit suspicious in the beginning. When they had first arrived into Sylaise prison she had called out in surprise for the brother, Falon’Din, whose energy she recognized even after millennia in solitude. She was confused since the man was supposed to be dead and Sylaise became even more confused and suspicious when it was Anuira who answered her call and tight on her heal followed her brother Dirthamen. Dirthamen’s presence had cushioned the confrontation and brought clearance to the situation before it got out of hand but it had been awkward none the less.

June and Sylaise’s trust grew exponentially as Anuira linked their planes to let the spouses meet again for the first time in ages while she and Dirthamen lingered out of earshot for as long as was possible. Giving Sylaise and June time to reacquaint themselves was a gift both of the Evanuris treasured dearly.

After a few days of recuperating from letting June and Sylaise enjoy some rekindling Anuira linked all the of the Evanuris’ planes to that of Dirthamen and there they all met up to discuss the plan to bring down the veil without burning the entire world in chaos in the process.

\--

Six months ago he, the fabled Fen'Harel, had surprised Anuira in her dream as she wandered the dreamscape of Skyhold pondering how to heal faster. And now he was about to meet her physically there, on the long bridge leading into the hold.

In those six months Anuira had managed to piece together a solution to the problem being the veil. Together with the spirit of wisdom in the depths of the long forgotten catacombs of Skyhold, Elgar'nan, Dirthamen and Dorian, the plan had been forged, mapped out and prepared with deadly precision. It was then sent to Cassandra and Leliana in Val Royeaux for evaluation and from there distributed to every major settlement they knew of. Change was imminent and even if they didn’t like it, there was but two options; Lower the veil with the help of Anuiras spell and learn to live with the new consequences or they could let Fen’Harel burn the world in his misguided need to restore what was lost.

While Anuira, Cole, Elgar’nan and Dirthamen worked on finding and bringing the Evanuris into the plan. Dorian and Idrillas was traveling far and wide around Thedas, setting up the necessary runes in places of power. And all manners of people - formerly of the inquisition or friends of the organization – was helping in the preparation of Thedas. Anuira felt bad for lying to everyone, she and most people around her, knew that people would panic worldwide if it became known that the veil was coming down, so she was making people believe that the runes was for protection against the spreading of red lyrium and wards against demons.

Since Fen’Harel’s power was being felt in most places by now, Anuira used the fear he created to hide the true purpose of the runes. All that was needed now was bringing Fen’Harel into the fold, they needed his powers whether they liked it or not, and he was going to give it, whether he wanted to or not.

Those six months now past, had also involved frantic searching of the fade to find the remaining Evanuris. With the help of clues from the mortal world, Cole and her own stubbornness they had eventually found Ghilan’nain, Sylaise and June but, however they had tried, they hadn't been able to locate Mythal. She didn't even respond to the invocation at her own shrine and Anuira had all but given up when a letter had arrived at Skyhold letting them know the whereabouts of the old woman. _“Do not fret young one. I will be ready when the time comes.”_ was Mythal’s parting words, nothing more and nothing less. And knowing Mythal as they did, they knew to trust her.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Fen'Harel, how does it fare for Anuira? The second of the last three chapters in this story.
> 
> .
> 
> Enjoy!

“Ane himem Lethal’lan.” _(You are different Lethal’lan.)_ Solas said in his usual calm, almost arrogant way of speech as he came to a halt a few paces away from where Anuira was leaning on the banister.

“Na tas.“ _(You too.)_ She replied frostily forcing her arms to stay by her sides. It irked her that he dared call her friend even now. After all he had done.

Solas always clasped his hands behind his back, often turning to pacing – like he did now – giving of an air of superiority when he needed to assert himself. It could be because he was nervous, excited or feeling bad about something and he always made it look like he was indifferent. It was his way to control his feelings. She, however, would sooner cut of her own hands than give in to such bad habits. No, her arms would remain at her sides, not crossing in front of her aggressively as was her habit, born so long ago in the depths of the Free Marshes’ wilderness.

She stared at him with her turquoise eyes, hardened and calculating. Watching him pace in what appeared as a nonchalant manner, to and fro across the bridge with his hands firmly clasped firmly behind his ramrod straight back. Even though he tried to be so mindful of his body language he still gave away much. He was hesitant, uncertain of her intensions and that made him restless. His every nerve and every sense seemed to be acutely on edge as he watched her closely, waiting for some hidden danger.

Oh if he only knew…

“I am here as you whished, may I inquire as for the reason?” he asked irritated – falling into the kings tongue by way of habit and with poorly hidden curiosity when Anuira remained silent for to long. His stormy blue eyes fixed onto her lean armored form, appraising her every move.

“Din’das, solasathe harellan.” _(Impatient, proud traitor?)_ Anuira smirked. Her eyes sparkling with dark humor and glee that she'd won the first challenge.

She was going to enjoy this, may the void take her but she couldn’t help herself. He had always looked down upon all life other than that he deemed worthy and now she got a chance to shove it back in his face. She was but a being of flesh and blood, magic or no magic and she couldn’t stop herself from her pure delight in the matter.

Solas calm veneer cracked ever so slightly, giving a rare glimpse into his self as he involuntarily scoffed at her insulting words but refrained to answer the accusation. Anuiras smile widened at that and she let slip a muted chuckle. She knew he had no patients for games at this point, but she also knew he couldn’t quite help himself. Being the curious soul that he was got sucked into her game at the clues laid out before him, she was a puzzle he needed to solve and it was obvious that Solas was currently warring with himself. Wanting both to walk away in indignation and stay to sate his curiosity.

“When last we met you stated you would treasure the chance of being wrong once again.” she offered, switching to kings tongue for good measure and settled in to wait for him to acknowledge her statement.

“Yes. I suppose I did.” Solas said as he virtually stiffened, scrambling to compose himself as his eyes found the floor at her feet as they so often did when he didn’t trust them to hold his conviction.

“Then you would be happy to learn that I found a way?” she asked him with a wicked smile that had his eyes fly open in shock and his compose crumble.

“That is not possible!” he gasped. Obviously taken aback by the statement of the tiny elf in front of him. His reeling mind was obvious as it played across his features while he processed Anuira’s statement.

“Oh but it is Solas.” Anuira at this point looked like a predator knowing the hunt was over but playing with its prey for the fun of it. Her turquoise eyes filled with dark mirth and mouth spread in a wide grin as she looked up at him through her black lashes.

“Are you not happy?” she mocked when he did nothing more than shake his head in disbelief. His thoughts obviously running a mile a minute and his mind a million miles away.

“Re te’elana … Na? Thu??!” _(It’s not possible… You? How?)_ He spluttered lapsing back to elvhen and still too shocked to get a coherent sentence out of his mouth.

“Solas vys mar laia… Sul ga mar eolas, ny din sileal.” _(Pride will be your fall… For all your knowledge, you have no wisdom.)_ Anuira stated coldly while staring him down, her glee swapped with fierce determination and a hint of irritation. Did he think so little of her even after all she had lived through?

“You bear the soul of Mythal within your own and still you are deaf to her pleas.” she continued spitefully before Solas could collect himself enough to open his mouth.

“You truly are a slave to your own ambition.”

“You know nothing!” he howled at her. His anger was as fiery as it was instant. His fists clenching hard at his sides while his eyes narrowed to glowing slits of cold fury.

“You are but a shadow of **my** people and you dare speak of Mythal as if you could possibly comprehend her will!” Solas more or less spat the words at her as his eyes took on a cold glowing hue. The familiar smoke of excess mana whirled around him in wisps and small clouds and Anuria knew he was going to attack her.

Anuira never flinched and never moved. Locking her gaze upon his glowing rage she watched him cast his spell and trusted in the mental voice of her mentor and friend. _“No harm will come to you, hold your ground Da’ean.”_

As the ice started crystalizing in the air – ready to be shot straight at the heart of the infuriating elf standing in front of him – Solas froze, mid cast. He saw the infuriating smile return to Anuira’s lips and felt a chill run the length of his spine to settle uncomfortable somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

“Now, now old friend, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” A familiar gravelly voice rang out as the billowing clouds of smoky mana gathered ever denser beside a now very tense Solas.

Anuira bowed her head slightly in respect.

“Andaran atish’an, Mythal. Ar las ane son.” _(‘Enter this place in peace’, Mythal. I hope you are well.)_

“My dear girl, your manners are impeccable as always. I, however, am not the one you should be worrying about.” spoke the wisp as the smoke slowly gave way to reveal the form of Mythal.

Though not the form of the aged woman called Flemeth; witch of the wilds by the humans or Asha’belannar by the elves of this time. This was an elven woman, with skin pale as the moon and with rivaling white hair, billowing down to her waist in soft curls. Her form was slender and ageless, with sharp features and a frame just a few centimeters shorter than Solas. Her voice changed as she came into focus, the crackling and hoarseness dissipating from it, leaving it ringing clear and strong. The only thing remaining of her old human form was her golden eyes, still teeming with knowledge and raw, mysterious power.

“How is this possible?” Solas exclaimed in a breathless whisper.

“We merged… this... this should not be possible!”

“There is more to me than meets the eye, old friend. You know not the whole story and for all your years of experience you are still naive.” Mythal stated in her usual roundabout way of speech.

“Now if you’ll be so kind as to behave.” she continued sternly and at his nod, she released her hold over him.

“This young elf has not only the knowledge of the Vir Abelasan, dread wolf. No, in releasing her own magic - or should I say Falon'Din’s - she shattered the barriers shackling her mind, created by your veil. The veil that hindered her – and her peers - from their Elvhenan heritage.” Solas eyes was currently glued to Anuira. He looked at her as if trying to see inside her very soul and looked.

“As if that was not a feat in its own accord.” Mythal continued.

“She too has merged with someone, and through her actions gained his trust and approval. Not to mention she has also rekindled and in the process captured the heart of Dirthamen – who we all thought was going to wither away after the loss of his brother.” Mythals words were filled with pride directed at Anuira who couldn’t help but blush slightly and try her very best not to fidget at the unwanted attention.

“She also commands the unshackled Spirit of Compassion which even with bindings would be a feat worthy of praise.” spoke a deep male voice from the depth of a billowing cloud, this time beside Anuira.

“Andaran atish’an hahren.” _(’Enter this place in peace’ elder.)_ Anuira spoke softly bowing her head to her friend and mentor as he emerged from the smoke.

“ ’Ma lath _.” (My love.)_ Mythal greeted the male elf with brilliant black hair in contrast to hers, tied neatly in a thick, intricate braid reaching his lower back. His frame just as lean as Solas but with broader shoulders and more distinguished muscles. His thick neck a stark contrast to his pointy nose and slim lips. His skin was tanned as if he’d been outside most of his time and his eyes bore the same color as Mythals. Filled with the same knowledge and power but with a hint of something darker, lurking just beneath the surface.

Elgar’nan met Mythal in a brief embrace, touching their foreheads together, before turning to Anuira.

“Da’ean, ane son ar las?” _(Little bird, you are well I hope?)_ Elgar’nan greeted her with the nickname given her by Dorian in what seemed a lifetime ago.

“Vin, serannasan ma hahren.” _(Yes, I thank you elder.)_ She answered with a warm smile. They knew each other well by now and she wasn't formal with him most of the time. But publicly, she knew her place and respected him well enough to grant him his due.

“As humble as ever, da’ean.” Elgar’nans voice warm with the affection he held for the young elf who so graciously had given his threatened soul a safe harbor for the time being.

“Indeed.” Mythal spoke looking fondly over at Anuira.

“You do the people proud child.”

Solas cleared his throat suddenly, making all eyes snap to him. Most warmth drained from everyone’s features but he couldn’t care less.

“Are there any more of our beloved family members joining us or can we get this meeting onwards?” Solas said poorly hiding his disdain for the other male and clearly not happy with being forgotten.

“Fen’harel…” Elgar’nan spat, eyes burning with long pent up anger and resentment.

“Yes, I…” Solas lost his words and looked away from Elgar’nan with a bitter frown.

“No old friend. None other than myself and Elgar’nan has the ability to separate their soul from their body seeing as how you were all raised from the people due to your extraordinary abilities.” Mythal drawled her answer, giving Solas a stern look of disapproval before looking over to Anuira.

“Now. Would you be so kind as to explain this plan of yours so that I may hear it in the flesh?”

“Of course, hahren.” Anuira politely replied.

“It’s a simple spell. A cross between a dispelling of a barrier and an invocation of glyphs, only it’s amplified on a huge scale." she took a deep breath before continuing.

"I was hoping to act as the anchor together with Cole, or as you call him, Compassion. He has the ability to cross between the fade and this world and I have the mark of magic which gives me roughly the same ability. He acts as the anchor in the fade and I here while linking ourselves together in the middle of the two planes.” she took a short break to look between Elgar’nan and Mythal who both nodded in agreement.

“You know Compassion well and thus you should be the one to join with him.” Mythal spoke as Elgar’nan hummed his approval before allowing Anuira to continue.

“Dorian and I have worked tirelessly with the Dalish clans, mage-academies and friends to make glyphs all over Thedas which will act to slow down the progress of merging the different planes over several years, making it possible for them to merge without burning the world we know in chaos. Not many know the real reason for these glyphs as they are led to believe they are wards to protect Thedas from the spread of red lyrium. We felt it necessary to keep most information to ourselves else we cause a widespread panic and riots.” Once again she stopped to get approval before continuing.

“As I mentioned, myself and Cole will act as the anchors to the spell. I will link the fade-prisons to Coles place in the fade and from there Ghilan’nain, Sylaise, Dirthamen and June will pour their mana into Cole. From this side you; Mythal, Elgar’nan and Sola… Fen’harel will pour your mana through me and I will amplify it with my own. As the two planes clashes for the first time one of us must take the backlash of the magic into ourselves to protect the glyphs and in turn Thedas. That will most certainly destroy that persons own powers, though it should not kill. ” Anuira finished and looked to Solas who wore a look of utter horror as it dawned on him who was intended to take said backlash.

“You want me… to…” he trailed of as he looked at Anuira in rattled despair.

“All of us has decided you either do this willingly as punishment for your selfishness, or we will force it upon you.” Elgar’nan stated with blunt bitterness. Solas didn’t even acknowledge him as his gaze was still focusing on Anuira.

“Don’t you dare blame her! _She_ was intent on taking the blow herself. _We_ disagreed as we find her more valuable than your miserable hide.” Elgar’nan sneered furiously, staying true to the rumored temper of the God of vengeance. A hand laid upon his upper arm stopped him in his onslaught. Mythal nodded to Anuira, intuitively knowing the young elf had something up her sleeve.

Anuira turned to Solas again, pinning him with her ruthless sea green eyes. A smirk forming on her lips as she could see his pride warring with his longing for companionship. She loved to finally see the man squirm. To finally be able to make him feel as small and insignificant as he had always made her feel.

“Last we met you told me you would treasure the opportunity to be wrong again.” she repeated her words from the beginning of their meeting.

“ _You_ were the one who so valiantly told me that sacrifices were a tragic necessity. Now that the sacrifice is your own power - instead of every living being in this world - you hesitate? You certainly live up to your name…” The last words were scoffed, mockingly at him as he lowered his head with a deep, defeated sigh.

“You are right. Once again my ignorance shames me. I will do as you ask.” Solas managed to wheeze out of his constricting throat.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the conclusion of the entire story, the last chapter... It is a bit bittersweet to finish this story and moving on, but alas. I knew this day would eventually come.
> 
> It took some time to weave everything into place. To double check that I didn't leave to many loose ends nad weird hiccups and I hope I succeeded.
> 
> .
> 
> Enjoy!

Every preparation that could be thought of was ready as Elgar’nan, Mythal, Fen’harel, Anuira and Cole gathered on the top of the mage tower of Skyhold. The glyphs that was going to act as pillars against the collapsing veil was in place according to the correspondence received from all over and under Thedas. All the bodies of the Evanuris had been found and brought to the top of the mages tower of Skyhold, ready for their owners to once again return to them. Nations had been informed on a need-to-know basis, the elven uprising flamed by Fen’Harel had been staved off and Skyhold had been more or less emptied of people except for a rare trusted few, needed to run the hold smoothly.

Scout Harding was the current spy masters, manning the crows used for communing with the rest of Thedas by ciphered notes. Cullen was manning the defenses together with former Grand Enchanter Fiona. A rare alliance born out of mutual understanding that no side - mage or templar - was all together evil or good and both sides had been abused by the powers that used to hold their leash. Cullen oversaw the few soldiers needed to protect the gates while Fiona and her little entourage of mages saw to the barriers protecting the rest of the hold from unwanted attension.

Dagna was still in charge of everything in the Undercroft after Harritt’s departure, making sure everyone had everything needed in terms of forging or tinkering and Mother Giselle had taken it upon herself to see to cooking and cleaning. _“Someone has to. Lest we all go hungry and dirty like beggars in the streets…”_ She replied when asked why a Chantry Mother would stoop to common chores. The only people not present, but accepted into the hold was Dorian and Idrillas who were on their way back from their trip to secure the glyphs.

\--

Solas scowled as Elgar’nan and Mythal once again separated themselves from him and Anuira. He and Elgar’nan still didn’t see eye to eye and more often than not the two ended up in a heated argument. The outbursts that Anuira always thought so rare were beginning to look like a regular routines in her life at this point. She and Mythal often shared a sigh or two before intervening to make the bickering stop. Today the two rivaling men held their tongues but the poisonous glares they gave one another was just as obvious as any argument. 

Mythal put a hand on Anuiras shoulder in silent support and with a last fond look upon her new-found family, Anuira stepped onto the lyrium infused glyph upon the tower floor. It immediately lit up in reaction to her, glowing under her feet like an obedient pet while coursing with raw power. She beckoned for Cole to join her before sparking the mark of magic still clinging to her left arm through veins of sparkling green. The rift to the fade opened in a crackling instant and as Cole walked through without a care in the world, Anuira made sure the wards against demons – or aggressive spirits as she now preferred to call them - where in place before reaching out through the rift to catch Cole’s forearms in her hands as he did hers.

With the anchor - namely Cole and herself - in place she once again called upon the powers inside her. This time to move the prisons of Dirthamen, Ghilan’nain, June and Sylaise through time and space, forcing them to connect to the place in the fade currently inhabiting Cole. As the four planes connected Anuira felt sweat starting to pearl on her forehead and her breathing quickened from the exertion. She looked to Cole, knowing he knew exactly what was going on in her head and to her surprise the spirit smiled at her. It was a small, almost shy smile of encouragement but his eyes gave away sorrow. She knew he knew and she knew he accepted her choice.

“You ready?” She asked Cole in a low voice, receiving a small nod of confirmation before giving the go-ahead to all present mages.

The Evanuris began flooding their magic into the anchor, or rather into Cole and Anuira as the case was. She saw Coles eyes shoot wide the moment the mana hit him and she felt her eyes copy his movement. The searing agony brought by the massive amount of mana surging through their linked bodies made both Anuira and Cole want to flee. It felt like every cell in their bodies - ethereal or not - was being ripped apart into a million pieces while being dipped in acid. Their screams echoed horribly through the mountains and Sylaise, Dirthamen and even Solas, were beginning to ease up on their mana transfer.

“Do not let up, it will only prolong their suffering!” Elgar’nan boomed across the rift as he noticed the energy flow lessening and to his satisfaction everyone listened.

Dirthamen closed his eyes, looking physically ill from the pain he caused his loved one. Sylaise grit her teeth, trying to block out the sound of her newly found friends tortured screams and Solas did the same. Ghilan’nain and June wore matching masks of unease while Mythal and Elgar’nan looked at the scene with determination.

Anuira managed to catch the gaze of Cole’s rolling eyes and he read her as he usually did upon her silent demand. _“Concentrate on the spell.”_ She thought frantically. She clasped Cole’s forearms harder in her grip in an attempt to override the pain and give them something to hold onto before they lost their minds to the unbearable pain wreaking havoc through their entire beings. Together they focused through the agony, directing the energy into the spell that would simultaneously lower the veil and raise the magical energy of the glyphs to keep the veil from crashing with the mortal world.

After what seemed like an eternity of maddening horror unfolding in front of their eyes, Mythal, Elgar’nan and Fen’harel could slowly start to make out the people pouring their magic into Cole from the fade. Sylaise, June and Ghilan’nain looked like a study of tired determination while Dirthamen wept openly looking as pained as his love. Soon thereafter the veil visably shattered. The blur hiding the four still imprisoned Evanuris evaporated and they were slung back into their physical bodies in a moment’s notice, disrupting their channeling of mana into the two trembling beings in the middle of the vortex of power.

The four newly freed Evanuris stretched their reclaimed bodies, getting up to stand with the their family while watching with building fear as the energy built up around Cole and Anuira threatened to turn into a whirlwind of destruction upon the world.

Anuira became vaguely aware through the pain and her own screaming, that Dirthamen was calling out to her. Looking over to Cole she noticed his eyes had all but rolled back into his skull at this point and he was trembling almost as violently as she was. The vortex of power was on the verge of tearing them apart by the seams and she was momentarily tempted to just let it so she could too escape the excruciating pain roaming every part of her body. But the mere thought sent her stubborn mind reeling at her for being silly and idiotic. She had been through worse and she would see this through!

Her screaming stopped as she made up her mind. She smiled a sad but genuine smile towards Cole as she helped him sit down before then let him go completely. She turned to Fen’Harel as her left arm sparked viciously in full force allowing the backlash free reign in her body. She siphoned his mana to keep control of the backlash while the force of it visably wracked her body. The excruciating pain, made her body spasm as she shrieked uncontrollably at the top of her lungs. Only when there was no more breath left in her, did the screaming stop and as the vortex exhausted itself she quietly she started slumping to the ground, surrounded by a green shimmering light.

“Ir abelas vhen’an.” _(I’m sorry my love.)_ She said faintly mustering the strength to meet Dirthamens horrified gaze as she sagged towards the ground.

“DIN!” _(NO!)_ Dirthamens normally silver voice distorted into a shrill wail as he threw himself forward to catch Anuira in his arms before she hit the ground.

He hugged her tightly as she lay pulled across his lap and he met his tanned forehead to her pale moist one. She gave him a week but warm smile as his long light-blond, hair fell over his shoulder to rest against her cheek. His green eyes desperately seeking her rapidly fading turquoise ones. No one around them made a sound, allowing Dirthamen the last moments of Anuiras dwindling life to himself but all eyes were glued to the heartrending scene unfolding in front of them.

“Din Anuira… Sathan, te’vara... ‘Ma lath, te’dina.” _(No Anuira… Please, don’t leave… My love, don’t die…)_ Dirthamen babbled in hushed hiccups as burning tears carved lines freely down his cheeks.

“Venuralas ahnsul?” _(Creators why?)_ Anuira used her last reserves of strength to lean into the warm palm cupping her cheek, she was desperate to soothe her love and clung to life by any means she could.

“Din… Te’vara… ‘Ma lath… ‘Ma vhen’an...” _(No... Don’t leave… My love… My heart…)_ Dirthamens brittle whimpers slowly distorted into hushed sobs as he desperately, clung to her. Rocking her gently even as her body slowly dissipated into green flakes through his fingers. His tears still spilling over to trail their way down his cheeks and soaking anything in their path.

No one said a word. They could only look on as the dreadful event came to end and they all knew that nothing could heal the hole left in their hearts from the young elfs passing.

Cole was the first to come to his senses and move. He went to sit down beside the shivering god of secrets and knowledge, talking calmly.

“She could not trust this sacrifice to anyone. It was necessary to activate the wards so she doomed herself. She kept it secret, hidden, deep inside. She wanted to protect us all, make us better. Her life in exchange for our future.” he said, an unusual amount of sorrow creeping over his words and features.

“I’ll miss her…”  Cole trailed off as his gaze focused on something beyond everyone else’s sight and he lost himself in his own private world, as was his nature.

“I can’t believe she was able to hide something like this from me… I can’t believe I missed it!” Elgar’nan’s voice barely audible but angry. Anger directed at himself but most of all at Fen’harel who in his eyes was the cause of it all.

“You!” he spat and spun to face Solas.

“This is your fault, not even your life is worthy enough a payment for what you’ve caused!”

“No more, ‘ma vun. Her sacrifice should not be repaid in blood.” _(No more, my sun…)_ Mythal spoke sadly as she placed herself at her spouse’s side, one hand resting lightly over his clenched fist.

Solas barely heard them. He had fallen to his knees the moment he realized her intentions, powerless to stop her as she drained him of everything. In a way she had told the truth, his chocked mind mused, just not the whole truth. For the life of him he couldn’t fathom her reasons for sparing his life. Nothing he had done to her had merited her forgiveness or mercy. He was chocked to his core, stunned and utterly grief-stricken. The elf he had played of as insignificant, the woman he had thought to be strong but ultimately still just a shemlen had proven him wrong yet again and also doomed him to fate worse than death.

“It should have been me.” he whispered barely audible, gaze trapped looking at the now tearstained necklace of stringed wooden pearls clasped firmly in Dirthamen’s fists.

The only thing remaining of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Don't forget to comment if you feel it worth your time. Any critique welcome so long as we keep it civil. And THANK YOU! if you are one of those who have read this far, I sincerely thank you for your support even if it has been through silent statistics. This wouldn't be possible for me to attain without you guys!
> 
> .
> 
> Much love to you!


	52. Chapter 52 - What you thought was gone - Epilogue!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Were you unhappy with the sad ending? Wanted more? 
> 
> Then read on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Long time no see. I hope you are all doing great!
> 
>  
> 
> Without further ado, moving on to the order of business:
> 
> I have received a high amount of requests about this story's ending. Many want a more happy ending and I am not above considering the opinions of my readers. So in this case I wanted to reach out to tell you that you have been heard.
> 
> I have written up a one chapter "wrap-up" to give my precious readers some love and attention. 
> 
> I hope this will satisfy those of you craving a happier ending. And for those of you who don't want another ending? Well it's simple really... Don't read this chapter :)
> 
>  
> 
> Much love!  
> /Fnorp

The grove around him was almost eerie still and quiet. Not even the wind seemed to dare disturbed the peace there more than with a light whisper of a breeze.

It had been years since that fateful event by the huge oak took place. The event that marked him and changed him for the rest of his life. It had been years since he felt her lips against his, since his fingers trailed that silken skin of her curves and caressed the myriad of scars littering his lover’s body.

He remembered her eyes. Those impossibly deep pools of glittering aquamarine that shone brighter than the sun reflecting of the gulfs of Rivain. Those eyes that at the end held both remorse and relief as she held his gaze for as long as her life force could hold steady.

He remembered her voice, her scent and fierce determination. That iron will that had her moving mountains, even bringing his own infamous father to heel.

Everyone around her and everyone she met seemed to gravitate towards her whether they wanted to or not. They all ended up loving her or hating her but either way their lives were forever changed by the meeting with the tiny force of nature he called Vhen'an.

It had been years since she faded away in his arms and he had been up and down the Fade and the beyond a million times since then. Always without a single sign of her spirit. Most people faded into the beyond without making a mark but he had been so sure that her fiery will and strong ideals would make her able to endure the transition into spirit. It seems he was wrong. Or the spell had consumed even her spirit as it settled over the world.

One slender hand unconsciously went up to fiddle with the wooden beads around his neck. A string of hand carved beads that once hung around the neck of his Vhen’an. It all he had left of the extra ordinary woman, except memories.

The Fade was now, just like her, a mere memory. The Veil too. All gone. And the entire Thedas was struggling to relearn how to live side by side with spirits, magic and different realms. There was the occasional outbreak of panic in response to the new world order, but the shambles of the Inquisition was always quick to help and in the process quench any uprising.

Cole had returned to wandering the world helping wherever he could but never staying in one place too long. He often returned to Dirthamen but just as the God himself, he never bore any news of Anuira. Though Dirthamen knew Cole was looking as fervently as he was.

Dorian and Idrillas had married and was now living happily in the hold Enanela had left them. Skyhold. Where her story both began and ended.

The odd pair were fair and good rulers, well-liked by both inhabitants and neighboring powers. Idrillas managed the Skyhold estate while Dorian communed back and forth to Minrathous to uphold his place in the magisterium. The human mage still led the revolution to make Tevinter a better place to live for all and last Dirthamen heard anything from them, Dorian had at least five bounties on his head for being the driving force of the change sweeping over the imperium.

Anuira would be proud of them.

Most of the key personnel of Skyhold had stayed on. Harding was still spymaster, Dagna ran the smithy and tinkered with all things magical - much to the mages dismay. Mother Giselle was still in charge of the kitchens and cleaning duties on the side of running a small chantry in the bowels of the hold.

Cassandra and Leliana was still part of the organization that officially disbanded all those years ago but outwards they upheld their positions as the Divine and the left hand of the Divine.

Surprisingly the Elvhen Pantheon and the Chantry did not end up butting heads like everyone thought they would. But if that was due to mutual understanding or something else was a question left unanswered. What did become clear though was that the Chantry no longer could disregard the truth of the elves heritage and culture. Their religion, their gods could no longer be dismissed as fairytales and hearsay.

The elves progressively became regarded more as equals. More so than they had been in a long time. Even a huge number of Qunari had broken lose from their home and stiff ways and found sanctuary in the south. Somehow the inquisition kept the feuding to a minimum. People were reluctant in the beginning but eventually learned to regard one another with respect. Supremacists still lingered but the stabilizing force of the Inquisition, backed by a lot of powerful people from Ferelden to Tevinter and even so far as to the Anderfels and Rivain, reminded everyone that coexisting was possible.

On every level.

Cullen still ran Skyholds army and defenses and Fiona still ran the mage-tower of the hold. Templars and mages, cooperating under one roof. As well as elves, men, dwarves and qunari doing the same. Even spirits functioned together with all the others.

Yes… Anuira would be proud.

Dirthamen sighed as he laid down in the soft grass of the clearing that once upon a time was his prison. The grove that not only held the worst but also the best times of his entire existence.

Most people by now had someone to fill the void in their hearts where Anuira once made her home. But he didn’t. Nothing felt like it could fill that hole her death had punched right through his chest. His heart still ached with enough loss to make him sometimes wish for death. But he knew he couldn’t betray her memory like that. She wouldn’t want him to follow her into the beyond before it was his time. So he endured.

The sun caressed his slightly tanned skin and he closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth. The whispering breeze ghosted his exposed skin and if he concentrated hard enough, he could almost convince himself that she was there with him. Ghosting her fingertips across his cheeks before wandering down his neck. Her lips soon following her fingers, gently peppering kisses along the paths’ drawn by her nimble fingers.

Gods he missed her…

A tear slipped from his tightly closed eyes, rolling down the side of his face to bury itself in his blond hair. Then another. His entire being ached with gut-wrenching sorrow and desperate longing.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right!

He sighed as more tears trickled down into his hair.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to see her again. To touch her and tell her how much she meant to him.

A rustling wind brought with it a faint tang of embrium and vandal aria. Familiar essences that spurred on the ache in his chest until the tightness in his throat threatened to choke him.

“Ma lathem ash on’ala’sha…” a soft voice spoke, just above a whisper.

Dirthamen jerked out of his misery and bolted up straight. His eyes flying open and searching until his gaze landed upon the painfully familiar figure sitting cross-legged a few inches to the side of him. His green gaze widened in disbelief.

“I’as lathem na…” the warm female voice continued while he gawked in shock.

The serene smile spreading over the spirits features made Dirthamen’s heart stutter and his mouth go dry. The black hair was longer than he remembered and hung free around her shoulders. She was more relaxed than he ever remembered seeing her but her sea-green eyes still held that mischievous spark and her skin was still as pale as newly spun silk.

“Vhen’an…” his voice was barely audible. A faint whisper that desperately clawed its way out of his dry throat in an attempt to make sense of the situation.

Anuria still smiled at him and his obvious struggling in confusion. A hauntingly familiar and brilliant smile designed to mesmerize and pull you in.

“Ir abelas sul amal ir’mana…”

He blinked at her for a moment before scrambling to crawl over to her. To pull her into his arms he hid his tears in her hair. Her warmth and familiar smell thawing the frozen lump he had been dragging around in his chest since she faded away.

Anuira happily wrapped her tiny arms around her loved one and sighed. She had tried to let go. She had wanted to. Wandering the fade until it faded into the beyond in hopes of forgetting all the horrors she had been forced to live. But as time progressed she found that all the hurts lessened but one.

She buried her face in Dirthamens chest and let her love for him flow freely. He was the one thing she couldn’t forget.

Dirthamen clung almost desperately to the spirit of his love. He could scarcely believe it. She had survived. She was here, in his arms.

He bent his head to kiss the tip of her ear.

His Vhen’an was home...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Ma lathem ash on’ala’sha…” (You loved her greatly…)
> 
> “I’as lathem na…”(And she loved you…)
> 
> “Vhen’an…” (Beloved…)
> 
> “Ir abelas sul amal ir’mana” (I am sorry for taking so long…)


End file.
